INTER-OCEAN 

HUNTING  TALES 

BY  EDGAR  DOLPH 


1LLUSTRATED 


NFW  YORK 
FOREST  AND  STREAM  PUBLISHING  CO. 

1908 

1 


INTER-OCEAN 

HUNTING  TALES 

BY  EDGAR  F.  RANDOLPH 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

FOREST  AND  STREAM  PUBLISHING  CO. 
1908 


Copyright,  1908, 
By  Forest  and  Stream  Publishing  Co. 


.x 


FOREWORD 

^  IN  THIS  volume  will  be  found  a  series  of 

articles  which  in  recent  years  have  appeared 

O  ,       in  Forest  and  Stream.  The  incidents  recounted 

*  i       took  place  in  widely  separated  parts  of  the 

United  States  and  Canada. 

^1  .  As   time   slips  by  there  is  a   pleasure   in 

m  \       recalling  hunting  exploits  which  have  become 

^         relegated  to  a  past  that  can  be  lived  over 

<         again  only  in  memory.     Whoever  feels  the 

^         sportsman's    ardor    kindle    when    blood    red 

X        tales  of  the  hunt  are  related — an  ardor  which 

the  camera  enthusiast,  who  possesses  merely 

£        a  platonic  love  of  sport  cannot  appreciate — 

J        may  discover  an  excuse  for  this  book.     Its 

<(J        style  may  strike  one  as  somewhat  informal 

and  lacking  in  literary  finish,  but  it  should  be 

borne  in  mind  that  too  much  formality   is 

likely  to  take  away  the  charm  of  camp  life. 


FOREWORD 

If  you  picture  yourself  seated  on  a  log  by 
the  open  camp-fire  you  will  not  be  apt  to 
criticize  the  absence  of  polish  in  the  composi- 
tion of  the  text.  You  would  as  soon  ask  your 
guide  to  substitute  patent  leather  shoes  for 
his  greased  boots. 

May,  1908. 


iv 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES.  . .  i 

EXPENSE  OF  AN  OUTING 33 

A  NEW  BRUNSWICK  HUNT 37 

ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO.  . .  47 

DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH  69 

OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 82 

CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 96 

BLOODLESS  SPORT 122 

WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 130 

ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 143 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 
HERD  OF  ELK  (Frontispiece) 

PACKING  A  BRONCHO 5 

MARVIN  LAKE  47 

HITTING  THE  TRAIL 65 

THE  TETON  RANGE 83 

BREAKING  CAMP  95 

A  GLIMPSE  OF  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SCENERY.  109 
PACK  HORSES  ROUNDED  UP  FOR  THE  RETURN  120 

MOUNTAIN  CLIMBING 130 

VIEW  FROM  MT.  LEIDY 140 

GUIDE  EDWARD  SHEFFIELD  AND  TWO  ELK 

HEADS  145 

VALLEY  OF  GROS  VENTRE 150 

CHAS.  HERDICK  SKINNING  A  BULL  ELK,  THE 

AUTHOR  AT  THE  RIGHT 160 

GROS  VENTRE  RIVER 171 


INTER-OCEAN  HUNTING  TALES 


REMINISCENCE   OF  THE   ROCKIES 

IN  THE  fall  of  1896  I  decided  upon  taking 
a  hunting  trip  to  the  White  River  country 
in  Colorado.  At  that  time  the  White  River 
country  was  well  supplied  with  game  and 
might  almost  be  considered  a  sportsman's 
paradise,  or,  as  an  Indian  described  it  to  me, 
like  the  "happy  hunting  grounds."  Deer 
were  very  plentiful,  and  around  Hayden  and 
in  California  Park  antelope  were  numerous, 
although  very  shy.  Bull  elk  occasionally 
adorned  the  landscape  with  their  imposing 
presence  and  splendid  spread  of  antlers.  The 
cougar  was  heard  occasionally,  although  never 
seen  unless  hunted  with  dogs.  Old  "Silver 
Tip"  frequented  the  neighborhood,  but  had 
a  way  of  making  his  bulky  form  vanish  like 
some  apparition.  His  depredations,  where 
he  had  mangled  the  carcass  of  some  animal 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

or  disturbed  the  habitations  of  a  lot  of  small 
fry  under  a  rotten  log,  furnished  evidence  of 
his  presence.  There  was  enough  large  game 
in  the  country  to  give  some  idea  of  what  it  had 
been  at  a  time  when  the  Redskin  was  the 
undisputed  proprietor  of  the  soil. 

I  had  secured,  through  correspondence,  the 
services  of  a  guide  who  had  been  well  recom- 
mended. Having  heard  considerably  about 
the  cowboy,  my  curiosity  had  been  somewhat 
excited,  and  I  desired  to  form  a  better  ac- 
quaintance from  actual  experience.  The  West 
was  then,  to  my  mind,  a  geographical 
area  possessing  a  certain  wildness  and  wooli- 
ness,  which  my  imagination  pictured  to  me. 
The  rapid  trend  of  events  makes  a  book 
describing  its  general  conditions  seem  behind 
the  times  almost  as  soon  as  it  is  published. 
Much  of  what  I  had  read  and  heard,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  me  like  a  fairy  tale  in  the  face 
of  actual  experience,  although,  allowing  for 
exaggeration,  back  of  it  all  it  had  a  founda- 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

tion  of  facts.  Every  time  I  have  visited  the 
West  I  have  noticed  the  rapid  progress  of 
change. 

During  my  first  hunting  experience,  I 
noticed  that  the  typical  bad  man,  of  whom  I 
had  heard  so  much,  with  his  rough-and-ready 
manner,  accoutred  with  dangerous  weapons, 
his  social  position  established  by  the  size  of 
his  private  graveyard,  was  wanting.  The 
facetious  desperado,  who  had  a  pleasant  way 
of  requesting  the  "tenderfoot"  to  dance  while 
he  marked  time  with  his  six-shooter,  was  "non 
est."  An  unappreciative  community  had  or- 
ganized from  time  to  time  a  few  "necktie 
parties,"  and  the  experience  of  such  gentle- 
men has  since  become  an  interesting  theme 
for  romance.  The  large  settled  communities 
of  course  had  the  same  cosmopolitan  air  and 
character  that  one  finds  in  the  East.  There 
was,  nevertheless,  something  in  the  social 
atmosphere  which  impressed  you  with  the 
feeling  that  everything  was  very  different. 
3 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

The  cowboy,  of  whom  I  had  heard  so  much,  I 
learned  to  recognize  as  generally  a  very  quiet, 
civil  person,  never  going  out  of  his  way  to  do 
extraordinary  things  nor  to  make  himself  con- 
spicuous. A  man  of  few  words  and  not  in- 
clined to  familiarity,  he  is  essentially  a  man 
of  action,  and  prefers  to  take  a  short  cut 
to  accomplish  his  purpose.  If  one  should 
conclude  that  his  reserve  and  his  reticence 
were  the  result  of  mental  torpor,  he  would 
make  a  great  mistake.  Apparently  taking 
little  interest  in  a  new  acquaintance,  and  seem- 
ing to  lack  ordinary  curiosity,  I  find  that  he 
is,  notwithstanding,  a  very  close  observer  and 
has  a  quiet  way  of  extracting  information 
without  appearing  eager  to  do  so. 

My  guide  engaged  to  meet  me  at  Buford, 
Colo.  Being  unacquainted  with  the  locality, 
I  wrote  to  obtain  information  concerning  the 
railroad  station  nearest  my  destination,  and 
learned  that  it  was  Rifle.  When  I  arrived  at 
Rifle,  I  inquired  about  the  best  way  to  get 

4 


PACKING    A    BRONCHO. 

Blindfolding  a  vicious  animal   is  an  expedient  that  generally 
attains  its  purpose. 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

to  Buford,  and  was  informed,  to  my  sur- 
prise, that  I  had  a  journey  by  wagon  of  sixty 
miles  to  make.  This  was  my  first  experience 
with  the  magnificent  distances  of  the  West. 
The  result  was  that  I  miscalculated  the  time 
of  meeting  my  guide  by  an  entire  day.  When 
I  arrived  at  Buford  on  the  evening  of  the  next 
day,  my  guide,  whom  I  saw  for  the  first  time, 
rode  up  on  a  mustang,  seated  in  a  big  Mexican 
saddle.  With  an  easy  air,  as  though  we  had 
been  acquainted  all  our  lives,  he  expressed 
his  pleasure  at  meeting  me  and  advised  all 
necessary  arrangements  for  the  morrow's  start 
on  our  hunt  back  in  the  mountains. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  how  quickly  and 
skillfully  an  experienced  man  can  pack  a  lot 
of  horses,  apportioning  the  loads  with  great 
fairness,  and  balancing  the  dead  weight  so 
that  it  will  ride  easily  on  the  backs  of  the  not 
overwilling  animals.  Packing  seems  easy,  and 
if  you  want  to  know  how  easy  it  is,  try  it. 
After  you  have  ridden  a  mile  or  so,  perhaps, 
5 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

some  critical  beast  will  begin  to  subject  your 
work  to  a  severe  test  by  bucking.  To  express 
the  state  of  your  feelings  when  this  happens 
would  be  impossible,  unless  your  sympathetic 
guide,  who  is  generally  an  expert  in  swearing, 
can  help  you  out. 

The  first  day's  journey  was  rather  long  and 
tedious,  a  large  part  of  it  through  monoton- 
ous stretches  of  sage  brush.  When  at  length 
the  timber  was  reached,  the  change  was  most 
agreeable.  We  arrived  at  the  location  of  our 
first  camp  without  a  mishap,  unless  having  my 
legs  squeezed  between  the  horse  and  a  tree  a 
couple  of  times  could  be  considered  as  such. 
Although  my  guide  knew  his  business  as  a 
guide,  I  could  not  recommend  him  as  a  first- 
rate  cook.  His  efforts  at  making  bread  proved 
a  flat  failure,  and  we  had  to  do  without  the 
staff  of  life.  The  canned  provisions,  which 
required  practically  no  skill  in  their  prepara- 
tion., made  the  inefficiency  of  the  cooking  less 
apparent. 

6 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

The  camp  being  pitched  in  a  well  timbered 
and  picturesque  spot,  we  spent  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  in  arranging  everything  and  laying 
our  plans  for  the  next  day.  The  waning  sun- 
light found  us  spread  comfortably  around  a 
big  camp-fire,  which  sent  its  genial  glow  far 
into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  gloomy  forest. 
When  a  great  heap  of  burning  faggots  had 
sunk  into  a  bed  of  smouldering  ashes  and  the 
rising  wind  murmuring  through  the  pines 
gave  warning  of  an  approaching  storm,  I 
concluded  to  crawl  under  the  bedding  and 
sleep.  The  hard,  frozen  ground  is  not  as 
comfortable  as  a  spring  mattress,  but  I  had 
to  get  used  to  it,  and  was  sleeping  soundly, 
when  I  was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  the 
cheerful  voice  of  the  guide,  who  called  out, 
"Breakfast!"  as  if  he  were  summoning  all  the 
guests  of  a  boarding  house  to  a  feast.  When 
I  crawled  out  of  my  sleeping  bag  into  the 
chilly  atmosphere,  I  found  the  guide  doing 
the  chores  in  his  stocking  feet.  A  few  dashes 

7 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

of  ice-cold  water  from  the  stream  hard  by 
drove  away  all  feeling  of  drowsiness,  and 
made  me  conscious  of  the  fact  that  I  had  an 
appetite. 

After  breakfast,  without  waiting  to  put 
camp  in  order,  for  the  morning  was  already 
advanced,  we  started  out  in  search  of  game. 
On.  coming  to  the  edge  of  the  timber,  where 
the  country  opened  up  into  one  of  the  little 
parks  which  we  frequently  found  in  that 
locality,  I  saw  the  tall  form  of  my  guide 
slowly  stoop  behind  some  bushes,  while,  at 
the  same  time,  he  motioned  me  to  be  cautious. 
I  soon  saw  what  had  arrested  his  attention.  A 
magnificent  blacktail  deer,  with  a  fine  set  of 
antlers,  stood  out  in  full  view,  not  more  than 
a.  hundred  yards  away.  There  were  a  half  a 
dozen  does  nearby,  but  they  did  not  interest 
me.  I  brought  uOld  Meat  in  the  Pot"  to  my 
shoulders,  for  that  is  what  my  guide  had 
christened  my  .45-90,  and  after  taking  delib- 
erate aim,  fired.  Which  was  the  most  aston- 
8 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

ished,  the  buck,  or  myself,  I  could  not  say. 
He  stood  perfectly  motionless,  like  an  image 
in  bronze.  I  had  evidently  missed  him.  A 
second  shot  fared  the  same;  then  the  whole 
bunch  of  deer  began  to  scamper  off  unharmed 
by  any  of  the  shots  I  had  fired  at  the  buck. 
I  could  not  account  for  the  bad  marksman- 
ship, for  I  knew  that  I  did  not  have  the  buck 
fever.  The  guide  said  that  I  had  killed  one 
of  the  deer,  which  I  disputed,  until  he  pointed 
to  a  dying  animal  lying  in  a  dense  thicket  just 
to  the  rear  of  the  deer  that  had  served  as  my 
target.  I  had  not  even  seen  it,  until  it  was 
pointed  out  to  me  after  I  had  shot  it.  After 
making  several  experiments  with  the  rifle  with- 
out satisfactory  results,  I  found  that  the  sight 
had  been  knocked  out  of  place.  I  then  handed 
the  rifle  over  to  the  guide  without  correcting 
the  error  and  requested  him  to  let  me  see  how 
a  cowboy  could  shoot.  With  evident  pride 
in  his  skill  he  brought  the  gun  to  his  shoulder, 
but  he  shot  as  badly  as  any  tenderfoot. 
9 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

In  the  meantime,  the  air  was  full  of  sounds 
more  terrible  than  the  report  of  the  rifle.  Any 
one  who  has  heard  a  cowboy  swear  when  he 
is  really  in  earnest  can  understand  what  I 
mean. 

At  last  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  sights 
might  be  out  of  order,  and  when  he  examined 
them  and  discovered  the  trouble,  he  looked 
at  me,  and  seeing  my  complacent  smile,  the 
whole  truth  dawned  upon  him.  We  both 
laughed  heartily  at  our  mutual  discomfiture 
and  pledged  each  other's  health  from  the  flask 
to  celebrate  the  occasion. 

I  returned  to  the  camp  without  a  trophy  to 
commemorate  my  first  success  in  killing  deer, 
although  I  had  secured  an  abundant  supply 
of  meat. 

The  next  day  we  covered  considerable 
ground  on  horseback,  without  success.  I  had, 
however,  an  interesting  experience  in  climbing 
a  mountain  known  as  Old  Sleepy  Cap,  some- 
times, because  of  its  peculiar  formation  at 
10 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

the  summit,  called  the  Razor  Back.  Th'e 
ascent  of  this  mountain  was  not  particularly 
easy,  on  account  of  its  abrupt  elevation, 
although  the  height  above  the  surrounding 
country  was  not  great.  The  formation  at 
the  summit,  which  gave  the  unpoetical  name 
of  Razor  Back  to  the  mass,  consisted  of  a 
long,  narrow  ridge,  not  more  than  eighteen 
inches  to  two  fe'et  in  width,  bristling  with 
sharp  projections  of  rock  of  quite  uniform 
height  extending  nearly  its  entire  length  of 
about  ninety  yards.  At  each  end  it  broadens 
out  in  a  space  conveniently  large  for  a  tem- 
porary resting  place.  After  satisfying  my 
curiosity,  I  suggested  a  descent  into  the  valley, 
where* the  cool  atmosphere  would  afford  a  wel- 
come relief  from  the  blazing  rays  of  the  sun. 
Much  to  my  surprise,  the  guide  informed  me 
that  the  ascent  was  much  easier  at  the  point 
we  came  up  than  the  descent,  unless  I  wished 
to  reach  the  bottom  in  a  fashion  that  would 
imperil  my  neck.  After  discussing  the  matter 
ii 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

with  him  a  few  moments  and  carefully  study- 
ing the  position,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  right.  We  observed  that  at  the  other 
end  we  could  find  an  easy  way  to  descend. 
That  meant  a  rather  long  and  disagreeable 
walk  on  the  serrated  ridge,  attended  with  con- 
siderable danger,  or  a  still  more  unpleasant 
experience  if  I  should  attempt  to  crawl  on 
hands  and  knees  for  greater  safety.  Like 
a  couple  of  tomcat  serenaders  promenading 
on  the  top  of  a  brick  wall  liberally  strewn 
with  broken  bottles,  We  crawled  to  the  far 
end  of  the  ridge,  where,  with  some  difficulty, 
we  descended.  We  returned  to  camp  with  no 
better  luck  than  securing  a  snowshoe  rabbit, 
which  I  shot  through  the  head. 

For  some  days  I  conscientiously  hunted,  but 
found  it  difficult  to  come  close  enough  to  get  a 
good  shot  at  deer.  I  saw  quite  a  number 
bounding  away  far  out  of  range,  often  stop- 
ping at  a  safe  distance  to  observe  our  move- 
ments. For  lack  of  better  sport,  I  occas- 


12 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

ionally  practiced  on  the  "fool  grouse" — a 
bird  very  similar  in  appearance  to  our  Eastern 
partridge,  but  about  the  tamest  game  I  have 
ever  shot.  I  could  generally  have  three  trials 
at  one  before  it  would  move.  I  would  pace 
off  the  proper  space,  and  then  aim  at  the  head. 
The  flesh  was  not  particularly  delicate,  and 
would  certainly  not  please  the  palate  of  an 
epicure. 

One  day  as  we  were  traveling  in  a  blinding 
snow  flurry,  we  came  to  a  precipice  thickly 
fringed  with  undergrowth  and  small  trees. 
Impelled  by  curiosity,  I  got  off  my  horse  and 
went  near  the  edge  to  get  a  view  of  the  coun- 
try below.  The  waving  tops  of  the  pines 
beneath  were  barely  visible,  the  force  of  the 
wind  coming  through  the  great  long  valley 
at  my  feet,  sounded  like  the  hollow  roar  of 
the  ocean.  As  I  stood  upon  the  cliff,  gratify- 
ing my  fancy  with  the  weird  and  strange  im- 
pressions the  surroundings  made  upon  me, 
the  storm  began  to  abate,  and  through  the 
13 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

diminishing  fall  of  snow  the  sun  gradually 
diffused  its  light,  and  presently  the  atmos- 
phere cleared  up,  and  the  entire  landscape  was 
revealed  to  view  as  though  a  great  white  sheet 
concealing  nature's  panorama  had  been  pulled 
aside.  On  a  ledge  jutting  out  from  the  base 
of  the  precipice,  about  two  hundred  feet  be- 
low, I  observed  the  shapely  form  of  a  deer 
with  a  fawn  lying  on  the  rock  alongside  of  it. 
As  far  as  the  eye  could  distinguish,  a  great 
forest  of  aspen  with  white  trunks  and  branches 
sparsely  decorated  with  yellow  leaves,  filled 
the  valley.  Dense  masses  of  pines,  which 
completely  covered  the  steep  mountain  sides, 
except  where  the  ragged  projections  broke 
through,  formed  a  dark  setting  to  the  brilliant 
landscape  which  lay  between.  My  reverie 
was  finally  broken  by  a  voice  nearby:  "Well, 
pardner,  it's  pretty  late  and  we  are  a  long 
way  from  camp."  Traveling  in  that  rough 
country  after  dark  is  not  attractive  to  one  who 
is  not  looking  for  trouble.  So  I  mounted  my 
14 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

horse  and  began  to  occupy  myself  with  ob- 
serving game  signs  and  incidentally  thought 
of  the  camp-fire  and  kettle. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  how  strangely  the 
element  of  luck  will  enter  into-  a  sportsman's 
experience.  One  day,  after  hunting  faithfully 
from  early  dawn  until  evening  without  suc- 
cess, I  concluded  to  vary  the  monotony  by 
shooting  at  a  mark.  I  had  not  been  engaged 
in  that  pastime  very  long  before  my  attention 
was  arrested  by  hearing  something  crashing 
through  the  brush  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where 
I  stood,  and  presently  I  saw  a  fine  blacktail 
buck  come  bounding  up  the  slope  directly 
toward  me,  accompanied  by  a  doe.  My  rifle 
was  just  ready  to  bring  up  to  my  shoulder,  but 
I  remained  motionless  in  plain  view,  waiting 
for  the  game  to  come  within  easy  range.  A 
more  picturesque  sight  than  that  blacktail, 
easily  and  gracefully  clearing  the  fallen  tim- 
bers, I  have  rarely  seen.  My  eagerness  did 
not  interfere  with  my  sizing  up  the  well- 
15 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

proportioned  and  beautifully  poised  antlers, 
which  I  regarded  as  already  mine.  As  I 
raised  my  rifle  to  shoot,  although  the  action 
was  quite  deliberate,  it  was  immediately 
noticed.  The  deer  changed  its  course  when 
not  over  forty  yards  away,  exposing  its  broad 
flank  to  my  aim.  It  ran  some  distance  after 
I  fired,  clearing  with  ease  the  trunk  of  a  large 
fallen  tree,  and  giving  me  no  little  concern 
for  a  few  moments.  Following  his  tracks,  I 
soon  came  upon  the  deer,  dead.  It  was  in- 
deed a  fine  specimen,  weighing  perhaps  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  in  good  condition 
and  with  a  perfect  set  of  antlers. 

I  had  often  heard  of  the  remarkably  acute 
senses  of  wild  animals ;  the  timidity  and  keen- 
ness of  deer  are  proverbial,  and  yet  here  was 
an  instance  which  seemed  to  belie  all  former 
stories  and  past  experience.  Standing  in  plain 
view  while  firing  at  a  mark,  the  buck  ran 
directly  toward  m'e.  One  would  naturally 
suppose  that  the  noise  of  the  shooting  would 
16 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

have  driven  the  animal  away.  My  theory 
about  the  occurrence  is,  that  when  the  report 
of  the  rifle  is  first  heard,  the  tendency  is  for 
a  wild  animal  to  become  alarmed  and  run  in 
the  opposite  direction,  but  presently  when  it 
catches  the  echo,  the  real  direction  of  the 
sound  is  misconceived,  and  it  will  then  run 
in  the  direction  of  the  firing.  Other  sports- 
men have  agreed  with  me  in  this  view. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  deer  and  other  wild 
animals  can  tell  the  direction  of  sound,  and 
consequently,  when  one  becomes  alarmed  by 
the  shooting  and  runs  toward  the  place  where 
the  sportsman  is  located,  it  is  not  the  ear,  but 
the  judgment  that  is  at  fault.  A  wild  animal 
can  have  no  correct  idea  of  an  echo,  but  un- 
doubtedly imagines  that  it  is  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent sound,  and  being  last  heard  determines 
its  final  course. 

This,  however,  does  not  explain  the  action 
of  the  deer  in  running  directly  toward  me 
when  I  was  in  plain  view.    All  sportsmen  soon 
17 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

learn  to  recognize  the  fact  that  animals, 
although  keen  of  sight,  are  not  very  discrim- 
inating. Birds,  as  well  as  wild  animals,  will 
frequently  continue  their  course  when  it  lies 
in  the  direction  of  a  human  being,  provided 
there  is  no  perceptible  movement  to  attract 
their  attention.  Any  kind  of  motion  is  im- 
mediately noticed,  particularly  if  it  is  at  all 
sudden.  Stationary  objects  are  not  apt  to 
attract  much  attention  unless  there  is  some- 
thing very  strange  in  their  appearance,  espe- 
cially if  the  coloring  does  not  harmonize  with 
the  general  surroundings  and  happens  to  be 
different  from  what  is  ordinarily  seen. 

Animals  use  their  faculties  in  a  very 
mechanical  way,  and  this  observation  is  more 
true  of  sight  than  of  any  other  sense.  I  have 
seen  a  pack  of  dogs  which  had  followed  a 
bobcat's  tracks  to  a  tree  where  they  supposed 
it  had  taken  refuge,  baying  and  standing 
guard,  while  it  was  perfectly  evident  to  any 
one  who  was  not  blind  that  the  cat  had  es- 
18 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

caped.  The  sense  of  smell  had  directed  the 
dogs  to  the  spot,  and  relying  upon  the  in- 
formation received  in  that  way,  they  failed  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  intelligence  they  might 
have  derived  from  another  source.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  sight  of  dogs  is  particularly 
keen,  but  they  rely  almost  entirely  upon  the 
sense  of  smell.  When  the  mind  is  greatly 
absorbed  in  one  direction,  it  is  for  the  time 
being  far  less  observant  or  attentive  in  other 
ways.  A  human  being  depends  mostly  upon 
the  sight,  and  next  upon  hearing;  the  sense 
of  smell  is  the  least  used  of  any  of  the  senses. 
Among  animals,  with  few  exceptions,  smell 
is  the  principal  sense,  and  all  the  others  are 
little  used  in  comparison,  although  very  acute. 

Having  secured  a  good  deer  trophy,  I  next 
turned  my  thoughts  to  a  different  kind  of 
hunting,  and  concluded  that  antelope  would 
afford  a  pleasing  variety,  both  as  a  prize  and 
in  the  method  of  hunting. 

The  next  day  the  outfit  was  got  in  readiness 
19 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

and  we  started  for  a  place  called  Hayden, 
located  in  California  Park.  The  sun  had 
melted  the  snow,  and  the  journey  was  hot 
and  dusty.  Traveling  over  the  steep  moun- 
tain trails,  the  guide  gave  me  the  lead,  while 
he  rode  at  the  rear  of  the  pack  horses  strung 
out  in  single  file,  and  made  use  of  all  the  arts 
of  persuasion  to  keep  them  going,  frequently 
leaning  down  to  pick  up  a  rock  or  a  stick  to 
hurl  at  some  "ornery"  beast  that  would  turn 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  appeal,  "Wake  up  and  pay 
for  your  bedding."  Speeches  in  true  cowboy 
style,  with  plenty  of  rhetorical  flourishes,  were 
delivered  almost  without  intermission,  when 
the  traveling  was  particularly  difficult. 

After  leaving  the  timber,  we  had  a  tedious 
journey  through  long  stretches  of  sage  brush. 
The  land  where  the  sage  brush  abounds  seems 
desolate  and  forsaken,  and  .would  impress  the 
casual  observer  as  perfectly  worthless.  While 
reflecting  upon  the  forbidding  aspect  of  the 
country,  I  wondered  if  this  land  could  be 
20 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

rendered  productive  upon  the  arrival  of  that 
era  "when  the  desert  would  blossom  as  the 
rose."  I  discovered  an  answer  to  my  ques- 
tion ere  long,  when  my  sight  was  gladdened 
by  a  neat  little  ranch  located  near  a  stream, 
with  about  two  acres  of  ground  irrigated 
and  under  cultivation.  If  it  had  been  an  oasis 
in  a  desert,  the  contrast  could  not  have  been 
more  striking.  A  great  stack  of  alfalfa  hay 
stood  near  the  ranch,  exposing  a  cut  in  its 
side  which  revealed  the  interior  perfectly 
green.  At  first  I  thought  that  the  grass  had 
not  been  properly  cured,  but  I  learned  after- 
ward that  the  alfalfa  contains  so  much  nutri- 
ment that  it  remains  green  a  long  time  after 
it  has  been  cured  and  stacked.  There  were 
quite  a  number  of  fruit  trees  of  small  size  so 
laden  with  fruit  that  the  branches  had  to  be 
propped.  All  that  is  needed  to  make  the  soil 
productive,  is  to  clear  off  the  sage  brush,  and 
irrigate. 

We  camped  that  night  by  a  stream  in  a 


21 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

clump  of  aspen  trees,  many  of  which,  although 
dead,  were  still  standing.  The  aspen  when 
dead  becomes  exceedingly  dry  and  light,  and 
makes  a  very  hot  and  bright  fire,  but  quickly 
burns  out,  leaving  a  small  quantity  of  ashes 
to  the  amount  of  wood  consumed.  After  the 
evening  meal,  we  piled  the  dead  aspen  wood 
upon  the  fire  until  it  formed  a  heap  nearly  as 
high  as  our  heads.  The  flames  shot  well  into 
the  air  and  lighted  up  the  landscape  for  a 
considerable  distance.  Listening  to  the  guide 
spinning  his  yarns  as  we  lay  by  the  cheerful 
blaze,  the  time  slipped  by  rapidly.  It  may 
not  be  out  of  place  to  relate  one  of  the  stories 
my  guide  told  me,  as  a  sample  of  the  kind 
of  intellectual  treat  they  furnished. 

Among  his  acquaintances  was  a  telegraph 
operator  at  a  place  called  Red  Wing  on  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad.  The 
operator  had  taught  the  guide  a  smattering  of 
telegraphy,  and  the  sequel  will  prove  the  truth 
of  the  saying  that  "a  little  knowledge  is  a 

22 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

dangerous  thing."  The  operator  was  on  very 
friendly  terms  with  a  young  lady  in  the  same 
employment  at  a  station  not  many  miles  away, 
and  when  business  was  slack  they  freely  cor- 
responded in  complimentary  and  sometimes 
sentimental  messages,  until  at  length  their 
feelings  toward  each  other  had  deepened  into 
something  more  than  friendship.  One  day 
the  guide  dropped  into  the  office,  and  while 
he  was  there,  the  operator  had  to  leave  for  a 
short  time  on  other  business.  During  his 
absence  a  message  came  over  the  wire  of 
the  usual  sentimental  kind.  The  "charge 
d'affaires"  did  not  recognize  the  sender  nor 
understand  the  message,  but  being  possessed 
of  ready  wit  and  unlimited  assurance,  he  im- 
mediately sent  back  a  reply  characterized  by 
brevity,  force  and  spiciness.  When  the  regu- 
lar operator  returned  and  endeavored  to  re- 
sume a  tete-a-tete  he  could  get  no  response, 
nor  was  further  communication  continued,  ex- 
cept in  the  ordinary  course  of  business.  An 
23 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

effort  to  obtain  an  explanation  received  no 
notice,  as  he  was  supposed  to  be  the  guilty 
party  and  naturally  would  understand  the 
cause  of  the  trouble  well  enough  without  it. 
While  the  operator  was  pouring  out  the  bur- 
den of  his  troubled  soul  to  the  guide  a  few 
days  after,  a  suspicion  flashed  across  the  mind 
of  the  latter  that  perhaps  the  fragrant  mes- 
sage he  had  sent  at  random  might  have  been 
the  cause  of  the  misunderstanding.  He  so 
informed  the  operator,  and  matters  were 
finally  satisfactorily  explained,  and  the  former 
friendly  relations  restored. 

When  California  Park  was  at  length 
reached,  we  found  the  country  very  hilly,  but 
open.  There  were  a  number  of  antelope  in 
that  locality,  but  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
get  a  good  shot  at  one.  The  atmosphere  is 
so  deceptive  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  gauge 
the  distance.  I  made  a  good  many  quite 
accurate  line  shots,  but  they  were  invariably 
either  too  high  or  too  low.  It  was  some 
24 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

time  before  I  could  form  a  correct  idea  of  the 
distance.  I  believe  it  is  best  for  any  one 
shooting  in  a  strange  country  where  distances 
are  deceptive,  to  ask  information  of  the  guide, 
so  that  he  may  be  able  to  sight  his  rifle  at  the 
right  elevations.  In  an  open  country,  where 
the  atmosphere  is  rarefied  and  objects  are  seen 
very  distinctly,  it  is  easy  to  underestimate  the 
range  of  your  mark;  while  in  the  timber,  par- 
ticularly if  it  is  fairly  dense,  the  tendency  is 
to  overestimate  and  consequently  shoot  too 
high.  After  a  couple  of  days,  I  at  last  suc- 
ceeded in  bagging  an  antelope  and  tried  to 
run  down  on  horseback  another  one  that  I  had 
creased,  but  it  managed  to  escape.  It  would 
frequently  stop  and  look  back  while  being 
pursued.  Once  I  checked  my  horse  and 
waited.  The  antelope  stood  still  and  watched 
me  at  a  safe  distance.  I  observed  that  it  grew 
no  weaker  from  the  loss  of  blood,  and  when  I 
resumed  the  chase  I  became  convinced  that  it 
was  probably  more  than  a  match  in  speed  for 

25 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

my  jaded  horse.  I  did  not  seem  to  gain  on 
it,  and  the  horse  was  showing  great  distress 
under  the  strain.  I  had  not  the  heart  to  apply 
the  stimulus  to  make  him  quicken  his  pace  as 
the  guide  did  to  his  horse,  fairly  raking  his 
sides  from  the  shoulders  down  with  the  great 
Mexican  spurs  until  they  were  red  with 
blood. 

My  experience  in  hunting  antelope  con- 
vinces me  that  a  sportsman  earns  about  every 
trophy  he  gets.  No  man  can  be  a  sluggard 
and  succeed  in  hunting  this  kind  of  game. 
With  senses  as  acute  as  any  wild  animals 
possess,  they  live  in  an  open  country,  where 
every  object  is  visible  except  for  the  slight 
concealment  offered  by  the  sage  brush  or  some 
depression  of  the  ground.  The  antelope  have 
one  stupid  habit — very  remarkable  on  account 
of  their  keenness  in  other  respects.  They  will 
almost  always  follow  their  leader,  strung  out 
in  single  file,  notwithstanding  that  in  doing  so 
the  end  of  the  line  may  come  close  to  a  hunter 
26 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

in  pursuit  who  is  cutting  across  their  course. 
When  the  line  is  strung  out  to  a  considerable 
length,  and  the  mounted  hunter  is  not  more 
than  a  few  hundred  yards  away  and  is  riding 
at  right  angles  to  the  course  that  the  antelope 
are  pursuing,  it  can  readily  be  seen  that  the 
last  of  the  herd  will  have  allowed  the  pursuer 
to  gain  considerable  distance.  There  has 
been  a  good  deal  of  discussion  in  regard  to 
the  possibility  of  running  antelope  down  by 
mounted  hunters.  The  stratagem  usually 
employed  is  to  surround  a  bunch  of  antelope 
by  making  a  wide  circle  sufficiently  large  to 
avoid  giving  immediate  alarm  to  the  herd. 
Several  men  begin  the  chase  by  riding  toward 
them  from  several  widely  separated  points 
and  driving  the  herd  in  the  direction  of  an- 
other group  of  hunters,  who  are  concealed 
from  sight  in  some  depression  of  the  ground. 
When  the  herd  reaches  the  point  where  the 
other  hunters  are  concealed,  they  are  pursued 
by  men  on  fresh  mounts.  Sometimes  the  herd 
27 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

is  scattered,  and  some  stray  confused  animal 
will  try  to  rejoin  the  others,  and  in  doing  so 
will  run  straight  in  the  direction  of  his  com- 
rades, quite  regardless  of  the  closeness  of  his 
pursuers.  I  saw  one  lone  distracted  animal 
trying  to  rejoin  the  herd  come  within  sixty 
yards  of  a  dismounted  hunter,  who  tried  to 
get  a  shot  at  it,  but  was  prevented  by  his 
horse  straying  in  front  of  him  and  moving 
in  such  a  way  that  his  aim  was  cut  off,  until 
the  antelope  had  considerably  increased  the 
distance,  and  then  escaped  the  shots  fired. 

My  time  being  limited,  I  was  compelled  to 
cut  my  antelope  hunt  short  without  having 
secured  a  suitable  trophy,  although  I  had 
plenty  of  hard  riding  and  excitement.  On 
the  return  trip,  as  the  guide  and  myself  sat 
by  the  camp-fire,  a  cowboy  joined  us  who 
became  quite  companionable,  and  gave  us  all 
the  news  after  his  mind  had  been  sufficiently 
stimulated  by  several  generous  pulls  at  the 
flask.  It  appeared  that  a  couple  of  days  be- 
28 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

fore  an  attempt  had  been  made  one  night  to 
rob  the  bank  at  Meeker.  Before  the  robbers 
could  accomplish  their  purpose,  the  citizens 
discovered  what  was  taking  place  and  quietly 
surrounded  the  building.  When  the  men 
came  out  they  were  shot  down  and  killed; 
the  ends  of  justice  were  thereby  satisfied  with- 
out the  proverbial  law's  delay.  The  cowboy 
then  told  me  of  another  bank,  in  which  he 
was  a  depositor,  which  had  been  robbed  not 
long  before  by  one  of  its  officers,  who  had 
gotten  off  with  a  considerable  sum.  I  asked 
him  what  the  liabilities  were.  The  word  stag- 
gered him.  Although  I  recognized  that  he 
was  a  man  of  resources,  yet  I  felt  sure  that  I 
had  "stumped  him,"  and  felt  sorry  for  it.  He 
stared  vacantly  at  the  fire  a  few  moments  and 
slowly  shifted  a  quid  from  one  side  of  his 
mouth  to  the  other  and  sent  a  long,  yellow 
stream  into  the  center  of  the  blaze,  which  I 
thought  for  a  moment  would  extinguish  it; 
at  length  he  replied  in  a  leisurely  way:  "Wai, 
29 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

pardner,  the  liabilities  are — if  they  catch  him 
they  will  hang  him." 

Two  days  afterward  I  took  leave  of  my 
guide ;  I  felt  as  I  clasped  his  great  strong  hand 
that  the  compression  came  as  much  from  the 
heart  as  the  muscles. 

I  soon  found  myself  again  in  civilized  sur- 
roundings. A  barber's  skill,  a  warm  bath  and 
conventional  attire  had  already  wrought  a 
wonderful  transformation.  As  I  sat  in  a  com- 
fortable seat  and  looked  out  of  the  car 
window,  observing  the  strange  and  beautiful 
scenery,  so  continually  changing  with  the 
rapid  movement  of  the  train,  every  hour 
covering  a  greater  distance  than  I  could  travel 
with  a  pack  outfit  in  a  day,  I  felt  how  much 
easier  it  was  to  take  it  all  in  this  way;  no 
fractious  horse  to  control ;  free  from  the  burn- 
ing sun,  which  would  often  shoot  down  its 
rays  upon  one  like  the  heat  waves  from  a 
furnace,  and  while  in  the  midst  of  this  ordeal, 
the  climate  would  sometimes  suddenly  change 
30 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  ROCKIES 

with  the  clouds  gathering  in  the  sky,  and  a 
cold  wave,  perhaps  accompanied  by  a  snow- 
storm, would  follow.  When  I  reflect  upon 
my  experience  in  after  years,  the  scenery  I 
observed  so  rapidly  and  with  no  effort,  re- 
appears to  my  mind  like  a  blurred  photograph 
as  compared  to  what  I  saw  while  traveling 
with  the  pack  outfit.  The  charm  of  natural 
scenery  grows  upon  one  by  degrees;  whoever 
thinks  that  the  charm  wanes  when  the  novelty 
has  worn  off  is  not  a  true  admirer  of  nature. 
Whatever  opinion  one  may  entertain  of 
the  foregoing  statement,  it  is  very  certain 
that  the  sportsman  cannot  gratify  his  favorite 
desire  and  at  the  same  time  consult  his  ease 
in  all  respects.  A  royal  sportsman  may  afford 
the  luxury  of  having  a  force  of  game  keepers 
drive  wild  beasts  within  range  of  his  rifle, 
and  imagine  that  he  is  enjoying  the  real  thing. 
The  average  man  has  no  such  opportunity, 
and  I  believe  has  no  reason  to  regret  it.  The 
best  hunting  sections  of  the  country  are  re- 

iy 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

mote  from  settlements,  and  are  generally 
somewhat  difficult  of  access.  Game  is  by  no 
means  so  plentiful  now  as  it  was  when  the 
country  was  being  opened  to  civilizing  in- 
fluence by  the  introduction  of  railroads.  It 
is  no  longer  possible  for  a  wealthy  man, 
who  likes  sport  without  inconvenience  and 
hardship,  to  have  his  parlor  car  side-tracked, 
and  to  make  it  a  headquarters  while  enjoying 
the  pastime.  One  is  compelled  to  rough  it  to 
some  extent  to  obtain  success  in  hunting  big 
game  at  the  present  time.  But  after  all,  is 
that  an  objection?  Does  it  not  put  a  keen 
edge  on  the  sportsman's  desire  ?  Those  hunt- 
ing incidents  which  have  given  me  the  greatest 
trouble  and  exercised  my  skill  the  most  are 
the  ones  I  recall  with  greatest  pleasure. 


EXPENSE    OF  AN   OUTING 

*T"*HE  expense,  of  a  Western  hunting  trip 
A  after  big  game,  and  what  is  necessary 
to  make  it  a  success,  will  largely  depend  upon 
how  much  or  how  little  one  requires.  The 
average  man,  accustomed  to  the  ordinary 
comforts  of  civilized  environment,  should  be 
careful  to  supply  himself  with  as  many  of 
these  as  possible,  without  too-  greatly  increas- 
ing the  expense  and  the  bulk  of  what  has  to 
be  transported. 

The  season  of  the  year  makes  a  difference 
also*.  In  the  late  fall  or  during  the  winter  any 
one  who  is  not  accustomed  to  camping  out  in 
cold  weather  will  find  a  tent  with  a  light, 
portable  sheet-iron  stove,  which  can  easily  be 
carried  on  a  horse's  back,  very  serviceable. 

My  last  hunting  trip  in  the  West  was  late 
in  t}ie  fall,  and  I  had  everything  complete. 

33 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

I  will  enumerate  what  I  took  and  then  state 
the  cost:  I  had  a  guide  and  a  cook;  a  tent 
for  myself  and  another  which  served  as 
quarters  for  the  three  men  and  also  for  a 
dining  pavilion;  a  sheet-iron  stove  for  each 
tent,  which,  with  several  lengths  of  pipe 
weighed  very  little;  two  folding  tables  and 
several  chairs  that  packed  into  very  small 
space;  plenty  of  warm  bedding  and  under- 
wear; a  liberal  supply  of  canned  stuff — soups, 
meats,  vegetables,  preserves,  etc. — besides  the 
usual  standbys,  flour,  bacon,  my  rifle,  ammu- 
nition, etc.,  and  a  few  books  to  read  when 
I  was  tired  o-f  hunting  and  wanted  to  loaf  in 
camp.  The  cost  was  as.  follows :  Guide,  $3 
per  day;  horse  wrangler,  $2  per  day;  cook, 
$3  per  day;  eight  pack  horses,  50  cents  apiece 
per  day;  six  dogs,  no  charge. 

Provisions,  consisting  principally  of  canned 
stuff,  at  from   15  to  20  cents  a  can,  I  pur- 
chased at  St.  Anthony,  Idaho.     I  had  about 
$60  worth  of  canned  stuff,  and  had  some  left 
34 


EXPENSE  OF  AN  OUTING 

over  after  camping  out  thirty  days.  In  round 
figures  it  cost  me  about  $14  a  day  while  camp- 
ing out.  This  expense  can  be  cut  down,  if 
one  wishes  to  economize.  Great  care,  how- 
ever, should  be  taken  about  attempting  to  cut 
off  too  much. 

I  have  heard  much  adverse  criticism  in 
regard  to  canned  goods,  but  in  my  own  ex- 
perience I  find  them  most  serviceable.  What 
are  generally  sold  contain,  as  a  rule,  a  large 
quantity  of  water,  and  this  adds  unnecessarily 
to  the  weight  and  bulk.  A  great  deal  of  this 
may  be  had  in  a  condensed  form;  before 
cooking,  water  can  be  added  to  it. 

The  success  of  a  hunting  trip  depends 
almost  entirely  upon  the  guide.  Great  care 
should  be  taken  against  securing  the  services 
of  any  one  without  first  finding  out  something 
about  him  in  advance.  If  you  are  fifty  or 
one  hundred  miles  out  in  the  wilderness  and 
your  guide  should  prove  unsatisfactory,  you 
cannot  conveniently  dispense  with  his  services. 
35 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

In  that  case  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 

With  the  disappearance  of  big  game  almost 
everywhere,  and  the  greater  difficulty  of 
securing  it,  more  skill  and  special  knowledge 
are  required  now  than  formerly.  There  are 
a  good  many  men  who  have  shot  large  game 
and  lived  in  the  wilderness  who  wrould  not 
make  competent  guides.  The  man  whose 
time  is  limited  must  select  as  his  guide  some- 
one who  has  a  good  knowledge  of  woodcraft, 
understands  the  habits  of  wild  animals  and  is 
able  to  furnish  a  good  outfit. 


A  NEW  BRUNSWICK  HUNT 

THE  Province  of  New  Brunswick,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Tobique  River, 
was  once  noted  as  a  favorite  resort  for  cari- 
bou, but  for  some  reason  this  fickle,  migratory 
animal  has  become  somewhat  scarce  in  that 
locality.  The  moose  has  become  more  abun- 
dant. Various  reasons  are  given  for  the 
diminishing  number  of  caribou  and  the  in- 
crease of  moose,  but  I  do  not  undertake  to 
explain  the  cause  of  the  change.  There  are 
certainly  quite  a  number  of  moose  in  the 
country,  and  if  one  is  not  too  eager  to  shoot 
the  first  chance  he  gets,  and  will  wait  till  he 
sees  a  good  head,  a  hunt  of  several  weeks 
ought  to  secure  satisfactory  results.  The  law 
allows  a  sportsman  only  one  moose,  and  that 
fact  should  make  him  careful  about  bagging 
anything  which  comes  in  sight. 
37 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

The  true  sportsman  should  form  a  resolu- 
tion to  secure  a  good  trophy  or  nothing.  It 
is  pitiable  to  see  what  rubbish  some  people 
lug  out  of  the  woods — heads  that  are  wanting 
in  size  and  defective  in  fair  proportions.  The 
head  of  the  moose  lacks  the  grace  and  beauty 
of  outline  which  characterize  the  elk,  the  only 
large  animal  of  this  continent  which  can 
compare  with  it  in  size,  and  so  it  must  make 
up  in  massiveness  wrhat  it  lacks  in  other  re- 
spects. Whether  large  or  small,  an  elk's 
head  is  almost  invariably  beautiful  and  grace- 
ful. In  securing  a  trophy  one  can  afford  to 
be  more  independent  of  size  when  an  elk 
head  is  the  object  sought,  and  not  the  head 
of  a  moose. 

The  attractiveness  of  a  moose  head  consists 
largely  in  its  grotesqueness ;  the  size  has  quite 
as  much  to  do  with  that  as  its  shape. 

If  one  intends  to  hunt  in  New  Brunswick, 
a  great  deal  depends  upon  the  kind  of  hunt- 
ing desired,  whether  one  goes  early  or 
38 


A  NEW  BRUNSWICK  HUNT 

late  in  the  season.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
season,  say  from  the  first  of  September  to  the 
25th  of  October,  there  is  little  or  no  snow, 
and  at  that  time  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  get 
any  large  game  by  stalking,  for  the  ground 
is  covered  with  dry  leaves  and  brittle  wood, 
which  make  considerable  noise  at  every  step. 
At  that  season  one  must  depend  largely  upon 
canoe  work  and  calling  for  moose,  while 
caribou  and  deer  are  then  still  more  difficult 
to  hunt. 

Moose  frequently  come  down  to  the  water, 
of  which  they  are  very  fond,  and  in  which 
they  bathe  and  wallow.  Caribou  are  less  apt 
to  frequent  such  spots.  Calling  is  a  favorite 
method  of  bringing  moose  within  range,  but 
great  care  has  to  be  exercised,  for  a  single 
false  note  and  your  noble  quarry,  instead  of 
accepting  an  invitation  to  a  funeral,  which  he 
is  to  grace,  will  retire  to  a  place  of  safety. 

When  there  are  a  few  inches  of  snow  on 
the  ground,  hunting  becomes  more  attractive 
39 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

to  the  sportsman.  Instead  of  sitting  in  his 
canoe  waiting  for  something  to  come  within 
range,  he  is  vigorously  exercising  his  muscles 
and  his  knowledge  of  woodcraft  to  secure  a 
shot,  and  often  his  skill  is  put  to  a  consider- 
able test  in  shooting  through  thick  timber. 

There  is  nothing  more  improving  to 
health  and  conducive  to  happiness  than 
strenuous  exercise  in  the  cold,  bracing  air, 
with  sport  as  an  incentive.  Whatever  may  be 
the  outcome  of  your  hunting,  you  are  sure  to 
take  out  of  the  woods  with  you  an  increased 
supply  of  vital  energy  and  robustness,  which, 
after  all,  is  very  important.  If  your  hunting 
should  not  furnish  you  with  such  tangible 
results  as  you  would  like  to  see,  console 
yourself  with  the  reflection  that  a  very  wealthy 
man  once  offered  "a  million  dollars  for  a  new 
stomach,"  and  perhaps  you  have  secured  an 
equivalent  for  a  great  deal  less. 

Early  in  October  of  1904  I  joined  my  guide 
at  the  forks  of  the  Tobique.  We  immedi- 
40 


A  NEW  BRUNSWICK  HUNT 

ately  started  out  in  a  canoe,  into  which  I 
packed  all  my  things,  to  pole  up  the  Little 
Tobique.  The  water  was  pretty  high,  and 
this  increased  the  difficulty  of  ascending  the 
river,  whose  current,  naturally  strong,  was 
interspersed  by  rocks  and  the  debris  of  stray 
logs  and  woodland  refuse.  The  sturdy  skill 
of  the  guide  was  considerably  taxed  in  spite 
of  the  small  assistance  rendered  by  me  with 
the  paddle ;  and  yet  I  was  of  some  assistance 
in  forcing  the  canoe  over  places  where  there 
was  no  poling  bottom.  In  about  five  hours 
we  reached  our  destination  and  put  up  at  the 
camp,  which  consisted  of  a  very  commodious 
log  cabin,  where  we  found  the  cook,  who  soon 
began  to  busy  himself  in  preparing  the  even- 
ing meal.  The  two  succeeding  mornings  I 
got  up  before  day,  while  stars  were  still 
bright,  and  returned  late  in  the  morning, 
having  as  a  reward  for  my  pains  a  good 
appetite  and  plenty  to  satisfy  it,  when  I  could 
succeed  in  getting  it  down.  The  third  morn- 
41 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

ing  both  the  guide  and  myself  overslept,  and 
with  a  blush  of  shame  I  encountered  the  glare 
of  Old  Sol  as  he  fiercely  showered  his  burn- 
ing rays  upon  our  heads. 

That  same  morning  a  lazy  bull  moose  had 
been  guilty  of  the  same  offense,  and  appeared 
at  the  bank  of  the  river  to  take  his  belated 
bath  just  as  our  canoe  came  dancing  and 
twisting  down  the  swift,  turbid  stream  toward 
him.  The  big  bull  did  not  seem  in  the  least 
concerned,  although  every  moment  we  were 
rapidly  drawing  nearer.  If  he  had  been 
standing  in  the  water,  I  believe  he  would 
have  let  us  run  into  him  had  we  been  disposed 
to  do  so.  With  a  quick  movement  of  the 
paddle,  the  guide  turned  the  canoe  so  that  I 
could  secure  an  easy  position  to  shoot,  and 
then  a  sharp  crack  of  the  Mauser  rifle,  fol- 
lowed by  the  heavy  swaying  motion  of  the 
animal  as  he  sank  down  to  pour  out  his  life 
blood  on  the  sand,  closed  the  incident. 

The  head  measured  fifty-two  inches,  and 
42 


A  NEW  BRUNSWICK  HUNT 

was  quite  shapely.  As  I  surveyed  the  pros- 
trate form  of  this  pride  of  the  Canadian 
forest,  I  thought  that  it  was  no  particular 
skill  of  mine  which  had  brought  it  within 
easy  reach  and  secured  me  a  fine  trophy.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  though  the  original  owner  of 
the  antlers  had  almost  made  me  a  present  of 
them.  We  do  not  greatly  appreciate  things 
which  come  too  easily  into  our  possession. 
I  would  have  been  better  pleased  if  the  royal 
beast  had  made  the  shot  more  difficult  and 
had  given  me  a  chance  to1  exercise  my  skill. 
He  may  have  mistaken  me  for  one  of  those 
sportsmen  who  tremblingly  pass  the  gun  to 
the  guide  and  ask  him  to  shoot. 

During  that  time  I  saw  another  moose, 
which  I  declined  to  shoot,  because,  as  I  in* 
formed  a  friend,  I  had  all  the  law  allowed, 
and  for  the  further  reason  that  "it  had  no 
head."  When  I  informed  my  friend  that 
the  moose  uhad  no  head,"  he  seemed  some- 
what incredulous,  but  after  I  .explained  that 
43 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

this  was  an  Irish  bull,  he  seemed  better 
satisfied. 

During  the  rest  of  my  sojourn  I  had  con- 
siderable amusement  in  shooting  at  a  mark 
with  my  .22  automatic  Winchester,  which 
affords  plenty  of  practice  without  making  too 
much  noise,  and  is  also  useful  for  small  game. 

The  return  trip  home  was  diversified  with 
the  common  experiences  of  the  transition 
from  the  rough  camp  life  to  your  own  fire- 
side, when  you  sit  in  an  easy  chair  and  talk 
it  all  over  with  your  friends.  Sixty  miles' 
paddling  down  the  Tobique,  ever  impelled 
by  its  rapid  though  wayward  current,  which 
required  the  constant  correction  of  your 
course,  and  gave  delight  in  the  survey  of  the 
beautiful  banks  decorated  by  the  virgin  forest 
for  miles,  marked  the  first  day's  journey. 
The  next  day  a  ride  in  stuffy  cars  over  a 
second-class  railroad,  until  you  finally  land  in 
a  Pullman  coach  and  spin  along  at  the  rate 
of  sixty  miles  an  hour.  Perhaps  you  pick 
44 


A  NEW  BRUNSWICK  HUNT 

up  a  chance  acquaintance  in  one  or  two  sports- 
men who  have  just  returned  from  a  similar 
outing,  and  tell  you  of  their  mighty  deeds 
which  lose  nothing  by  repetition;  you  shrink 
within  your  modest  little  self  as  you  listen, 
for  you  know  you  have  accomplished  nothing 
which  will  stand  well  in  comparison. 

On  my  way  back  I  met  several  sportsmen, 
one  of  whom  related  to  me  his  exploits,  which 
were  very  tame  on  first  recital.  We  were  sit- 
ting in  the  smoking  apartment  of  the  Pull- 
man, when  presently  two  other  sportsmen 
came  in  and  we  got  into  conversation  over 
our  different  hunting  experiences.  The  two 
sportsmen  who  came  in  last  related  the  won- 
derful feats  which  they  had  accomplished. 
After  they  had  talked  themselves  out,  my 
first  acquaintance,  who  had  been  so  modest 
in  what  he  related,  much  to  my  surprise  took, 
a  fresh  start.  I  think  a  couple  of  good  drinks, 
which  stimulated  his  imagination  and  stirred 
hislpersonal  pride,  had  something  to  do  with 
45 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

it.  With  an  eloquence  which  truly  surprised 
me,  he  added  the  "verisimilitude  of  truth  to 
otherwise  bald  and  uninteresting  statement  of 
facts."  It  was  evident  that  the  newcomers 
were  outclassed,  for  my  modest  friend  was 
not  only  gifted  of  tongue,  but  he  told  his 
story  last.  I  have  discovered  that  there  are 
more  ways  than  one  of  establishing  a  reputa- 
tion as  a  sportsman,  and  sometimes  the  "gift 
o'  gab"  is  more  important  than  skill  in 
handling  a  rifle. 


i  m 


3-''. 


ROUNDING   UP    CATS    IN 
COLORADO 

THE  mountain  lion  of  the  West  is  the 
panther  or  cougar  of  our  Eastern 
States,  sometimes  called  "painter"  by  the  old- 
fashioned  backwoodsman;  in  some  localities 
it  goes  by  the  name  of  "Indian  devil,"  no 
doubt  on  account  of  the  weird,  unearthly 
noises  it  makes  at  night.  In  Mexico  it  is 
known  as  the  "puma,"  and  grows  to  a  larger 
size  than  elsewhere.  In  appearance  the  moun- 
tain lion  is  very  similar  to  the  African  lioness, 
having  a  smooth,  tawny  skin,  without  any 
mane;  a  full-grown  animal  that  will  measure 
from  seven  to  eight  feet  from  its  nose  to  the 
end  of  the  tail  and  weighs  about  180  pounds, 
is  considered  a  large  specimen.  They  seldom 
exce'ed  this,  and  more  frequently  fall  below  it. 
Although  often  engaged  in  hunting  big 
game,  I  never  saw  a  mountain  lion  at  large 
47 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

except  when  one  has  been  rounded  up  by  a 
pack  of  dogs.  In  their  habits  they  are  stealthy 
and  secretive,  carefully  keeping  concealed, 
and  never  willing  to  fight  unless  cornered, 
with  no  chance  of  escape.  Occasionally,  when 
the  odds  are  overwhelmingly  in  its  favor,  a 
lion  will  provoke  a  battle,  but  this  is  not  often 
the  case. 

In  disposition  and  character  the  mountain 
lion  belies  its  name;  of  all  carnivorous  beasts 
it  is,  perhaps,  the  most  cowardly.  Being  ex- 
ceedingly destructive,  it  not  only  kills  for 
food,  but  it  also  kills  out  of  wantonness.  I 
have  run  across  numbers  of  deer  that  have 
been  destroyed  by  the  same  animal  within 
short  distances  of  each  other,  the  carcasses 
being  allowed  to  remain  almost  entire.  It 
has  also  been  stated  on  good  authority  that 
one  lion  will  be  likely  to  kill  in  the  course  of  a 
year  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  deer. 

Considering  its  destructive  disposition,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  in  a  country  where  the 
48 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

deer  are  at  all  numerous,  this  statement  is  not 
far  from  the  truth.  The  ranchman  has  a 
cordial  hatred  for  this  destroyer  of  his  stock, 
and  the  cunning  displayed  by  the  lion  in 
evading  traps  and  turning  away  from  poisoned 
meat  makes  him  all  the  more  unpopular.  This 
animal  will  not  eat  of  any  kill  unless  it  is  his 
own  or  that  of  some  other  lion.  Extremity  of 
hunger  may  cause  him  to  act  differently,  but 
it  is  exceptional.  Most  success  in  hunting  this 
game  is  to  be  found  in  localities  where  the  deer 
are  plentiful.  It  is  practically  useless  to  at- 
tempt any  hunting  of  this  kind  unless  you  have 
a  pack  of  well  trained  dogs  handled  by  some 
one  who  has  complete  control  over  them. 
Great  care  and  patience  has  to  be  exercised  in 
breaking  a  pack  of  dogs  for  this  purpose,  and 
to  prevent  them  from  running  other  game. 
If,  for  example,  a  pack  should  take  after  a 
timber  wolf,  that  animal  is  so  fleet  that  he 
would  distance  most  of  his  pursuers  and  string 
them  out  considerably.  The  wolf  has  been 
49 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

known  to  turn  on  the  pack  thus  separated  and 
kill  a  number  of  the  dogs,  one  after  the  other, 
before  the  pack  could  be  united.  The  disap- 
pointed huntsman,  reaching  the  end  of  the  run 
on  his  jaded  horse,  might  survey  the  remnants 
of  his  pack — first  the  survivors  with  down- 
cast heads  and  apologetic  tails  between  their 
legs — and  then  some  dog  fur  scattered  over 
the  blood-bespattered  ground,  and  here  and 
there  a  mangled  corpse.  It  is  no  joke  to  have 
a  pack  run  for  miles  after  the  wrong  game 
over  rough  country,  your  whole  day's  sport 
broken  up,  and  perhaps  lose  your  dogs  for 
several  days. 

The  mountain  lion  has  not  much  endurance 
in  the  chase,  although  very  fast  for  a  short 
distance,  which  he  covers  by  a  series  of  leaps. 
In  a  short  time  he  is  treed  or  driven  to  the 
ledge  of  a  precipice  or  into  some  hiding  place. 
If  you  are  fond  of  hunting  with  a  camera,  you 
generally  have  ample  time  to  take  a  photo- 
graph of  your  prize,  perhaps  posing  in  the 
50 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

branches  of  a  tree  and  looking  as  pleasant  as 
possible — for  a  mountain  lion ! 

The  lively  serenade  furnished  by  the  dogs, 
which  the  lion  recognizes  by  continual  growls, 
displaying  his  whole  set  of  ivories,  completes 
a  scene  not  soon  forgotten.  Your  share  of 
the  business  is  very  tame,  although  absolutely 
effective.  A  shot  at  close  range  behind  the 
shoulder,  and  the  lion  tumbles  among  the 
savage  dogs  to  engage  in  a  losing  fight;  while 
in  the  agony  of  death,  not  infrequently  he 
leaves  some  little  reminders  of  his  long  claws 
and  strong  teeth  upon  his  assailants. 

In  the  month  of  January,  1900,  I  engaged 
the  services  of  John  B.  Go<ff,  who  possessed  a 
good  pack  of  dogs  to  hunt  "lions"  and  "cats" 
in  Colorado.  The  "cats"  referred  to  are 
bobcats,  not  the  Canada  lynx  with  which  they 
are  sometimes  confounded.  The  winter  was 
unusually  free  from  snowfalls,  and  the  ground 
being  very  dry,  it  made  hunting  difficult,  be- 
cause the  dogs  could  hardly  follow  the  scent. 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

My  first  destination  was  a  ranch  on  Straw- 
berry Creek  belonging  to  the  guide,  about 
twelve  miles  from  Meeker.  Here  for  several 
days  we  engaged  in  a  fruitless  hunt,  until  one 
morning  a  fresh  fall  of  snow  covered  the 
ground,  when  our  efforts  were  rewarded  by 
the  dogs  striking  a  couple  of  cat  trails ;  these 
we  followed  a  short  distance,  with  the  whole 
pack  tearing  away  ahead  of  us  in  full  cry.  The 
dogs  followed  the  trail  to  a  great  pile  of  mas- 
sive rocks,  which  towered  a  hundred  feet 
above  our  heads,  and  there  became  be- 
wildered. What  had  become  of  the  stealthy 
bobcats?  The  guide  and  myself  climbed  the 
rocks  to  search  for  them.  Looking  down 
from  the  summit  I  saw  one  of  them  lying  in 
front  of  a  cave  surveying  the  dogs,  which 
were  silently  and  swiftly  nosing  around  below 
it.  It  was  easy  enough  to  shoot  the  cat  where 
it  was,  but  as  it  rested  on  the  ledge  of  a  rock 
of  some  breadth,  it  was  a  grave  question 
whether  it  might  not  die  there  where  it  would 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

be  practically  inaccessible,  and  we  would  have 
all  our  pains  for  nothing. 

To  drive  the  cat  from  its  position  into  a 
better  one  was  more  than  a  doubtful  possibil- 
ity, as  it  was  likely  to  run  back  into  the  cave. 
So  I  took  a  chance  and  fired.  Like  a  crash  of 
lightning  above  their  heads,  the  excited  dogs 
heard  the  report  and  knew  that  "there  was 
something  doing."  The  wounded  cat  gave  a 
sudden  leap  into  space  and  fell  among  them. 
If  there  is  any  question  about  a  "cat  having 
nine  lives/'  it  seems  that  the  dogs  were  bound 
to  be  on  the  safe  side,  for  they  mauled  the 
remains  until  I  began  to  fear  that  the  fur 
might  be  damaged  before  I  could  come  to 
the  rescue.  Through  a  fatal  curiosity,  the 
other  cat  peeped  over  the  precipice,  and  paid 
for  its  rashness  with  its  hide,  which  I  added 
to  my  collection.  The  job  of  skinning  the 
cats  I  turned  over  to  the  guide. 

The  big  dogs  sat  around  in  sullen  dignity, 
particularly  avoiding  any  familiarity  with 
53 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

smaller  dogs  and  with  each  other.  Each  one 
seemed  to  consider  himself  the  hero  of  the 
occasion.  I  have  had  occasion  to  observe  that 
the  pack  would  work  and  fight  well  together, 
but  after  the  fray  they  seemed  to  be  intensely 
jealous  of  each  other. 

Several  of  the  dogs  interested  me  consid- 
erably. One  of  them  was  called  "Old  Jim," 
a  big  black-and-tan  foxhound,  with  a  deep 
bass  voice  which  would  swell  the  chorus  when 
the  pack  was  in  full  cry  and  sometimes  almost 
drown  it.  Old  Jim  would  occasionally  pro- 
voke the  not  over  angelic  temper  of  the  guide 
by  leading  the  whole  pack  after  a  coyote.  On 
one  occasion  he  had  distinguished  himself  by 
whipping  a  coyote,  and  whenever  one  of  these 
"sassy"  prairie  wolves  would  show  itself,  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  giving  chase, 
leading  the  whole  pack  after  him. 

Any  one  acquainted  with  Western  hunting 
knows  how  useless  it  is  for  dogs  to  attempt  to 
outrun  a  coyote.  The  coyotes  would  fre- 
54 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

quently  come  close  to  the  pack,  if  there  was 
no  man  nearby,  as  though  to  provoke  a  chase 
for  our  special  annoyance.  The  dogs,  how- 
ever, would  never  run  the  coyotes'  trail ;  they 
were  broken  of  that. 

Another  interesting  acquaintance  was  a  dog 
called  Turk,  a  cross-breed,  but  a  very  strong 
and  stubborn  fighter,  all  se'amed  with  scars. 
Turk  kept  near  the  guide,  and  did  not  run 
with  the  pack  except  when  there  was  some- 
thing in  view.  He  was  a  good-natured  dog 
ordinarily,  but  an  ugly  customer  in  a  scrap. 

There  was  another  dog  called  Boxer  which 
had  a  very  keen  scent;  long  before  the  rest 
could  discover  a  trail  one  could  hear  Boxer's 
knowing  yelps,  which  would  gradually  de- 
velop into  a  chorus,  as  one  by  one  the  other 
dogs  would  detect  the  scent  as  it  became 
warmer.  Boxer  had  more  judgment  than  any 
other  dog  in  the  pack,  and  was  very  good  in 
puzzling  out  a  broken  trail. 
I  We  spent  several  days  longer  at  the  ranch 
55 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

on  Strawberry  Creek.  While  there  the  guide 
purchased  a  broken-down  horse  to  feed  to-  the 
dogs.  It  is  not  a  particularly  easy  matter  to 
keep  twenty-one  dogs  supplied  with  food. 
When  the  horse  was  led  out  for  execution  the 
dogs  became  intensely  excited  and  seemed  to 
know  "what  was  up."  The  moment  the 
animal  was  shot,  and  almost  before  it  fell  to 
the  ground,  the  whole  pack  of  dogs,  big  and 
small,  was  tearing  eagerly  at  the  carcass.  No 
doubt  the  habit  of  attacking  wild  animals  as 
soon  as  they  have  been  shot  developed  their 
naturally  savage  dispositions. 

At  the  suggestion  of  the  guide,  we  decided 
to  go  to  a  ranch  near  the  Bear  River  Canon, 
two  days'  journey  from  our  present  location. 
When  we  arrived  at  the*  ranch,  after  a  long 
day's  ride  on  horseback,  we  found  the  ranch- 
man's wife  keeping  house;  her  husband  had 
left  for  several  days.  She  seemed  in  no  con- 
dition to  entertain  us  on  account  of  a  bad 
headache,  but  kindly  offered  to  do  whatever 
56 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

she  could.  We  volunteered  to  help  her  out 
with  her  domestic  duties.  First  of  all  I  pre- 
scribed for  her  headache;  the  medicine  went 
down  the  wrong  way,  which  caused  her  to 
vomit,  after  which  she  declared  she  felt  bet- 
ter. My  professional  pride  did  not  permit 
m'e  to  enlighten  her  as  to  the  unexpected  re- 
sult of  my  prescription.  I  say  professional 
pride,  because  I  went  by  the  nickname  of  the 
Doctor  on  account  of  an  emergency  case  I 
carried  with  me. 

I  made  myself  useful  in  doing  most  of  the 
chores  usual  on  such  occasions,  while  the  guide 
held  the  baby,  which  howled  incessantly.  The 
expression  on  his  face  while  performing  this 
duty  was  as  angelic  as  I  have  seen  it  when 
Old  Jim  would  lead  the  whole  pack  off  on  a 
chase  after  a  coyote  against  his  impotent  pro- 
test. When  the  meal  was  served,  two  other 
children  turned  up,  one  a  little  girl  nine  years 
old,  who  was  censured  for  not  taking  care  of 
the  baby;  the  other  a  boy  of  about  eleven, 
57 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

who  was  particularly  good,  according  to  his 
mother's  account  of  him.  Our  first  day's  ex- 
perience with  these  interesting  children  caused 
us  to  reverse  the  parental  opinion.  When  we 
returned  from  our  hunt  the  evening  of  the 
following  day,  the  guide  missed  his  lasso ;  the 
good  little  boy  had  tried  to  lasso  a  cat  which 
was  selecting  some  delicacies  from  a  tin  can, 
the  cat  took  a  sudden  leap  to  escape  the  lasso, 
and  in  doing  so  shoved  its  head  into  the  can 
and  cinched  the  lasso  round  its  body;  cat,  can 
and  lasso  disappeared  in  the  sage  brush  and 
were  never  found. 

The  country  around  Bear  River  Canon  is 
very  rough  and  picturesque.  The  canon  is 
steep  and  cuts  a  great  gorge  in  the  mountain, 
and  is  very  difficult  to  cross.  In  one  place 
we  were  headed  off  by  the  precipice,  which 
must  have  been  fully  a  thousand  feet  in  depth ; 
I  rolled  a  stone  off  the  edge,  and  its  descent 
seemed  to  take  a  considerable  time.  A  shower 
of  broken  fragments  and  dust,  followed  a 
58 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

second  or  two  afterward  by  a  dull  crash  which 
reverberated  through  the  canon,  announced 
the  termination  of  its  fall. 

The  dogs  finally  succeeded  in  jumping  a 
lion,  running  right  upon  him.  From  a  dis- 
tance I  could  see  the  chase  along  the  side  of 
a  mountain  until  it  turned  in  the  direction  of 
the  canon.  The  lion  did  not  seem  to  be  g<3ing 
very  fast  while  covering  the  ground  by  long 
leaps,  which  he  appeared  to  do  without  much 
effort;  but  when  I  looked  at  the  pack,  which 
did  not  seem  to  be  gaining  on  him,  they  were 
straining  every  nerve,  and  looked  as  if  they 
were  "going  it  for  all  they  were  worth."  No 
doubt  the  easy  gait  of  the  lion  made  his  speed 
deceptive.  The  lion  took  refuge  upon  a  ledge 
of  the  precipice  some  fifteen  feet  below  the 
crest.  When  we  arrived  at  the  spot  the  dogs 
were  raising  an  awful  din  in  their  impotent 
frenzy,  as  they  looked  down  upon  the  smiling 
countenance  of  the  lion,  which  was  displaying 
all  his  teeth.  It  was  thought  inadvisable  to 
59 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

shoot  the  lion  on  the  ledge  where  he  was,  be- 
cause there  was  a  good  chance  of  his  dying  in 
an  inaccessible  spot,  so  we  dropped  stones  on 
him,  hoping  to  drive  him  out  of  that  place 
and  compel  him  to  run  to  the  top  of  the 
precipice  and  take  refuge  in  a  tree. 

For  some  time  the  lion  savagely  snapped  at 
the  stones,  much  to  our  diversion.  In  their 
eagerness  to  see  the  lion  the  dogs  crowded  one 
another  near  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and 
occasionally  crowded  me.  As  I  leaned  over 
to  drop  a  stone  on  the  lion's  tail  a  big 
dog  planted  his  forefeet  on  my  shoulders. 
Perhaps  he  did  this  to  get  a  better  view, 
or  it  may  have  been  because  he  was  not 
able  to  say  "down  in  front,"  that  he 
adopted  this  method  of  giving  me  a  gentle 
hint  that  I  was  obstructing  his  view.  The 
action  was  not  pleasant  to  me.  I  did  not  relish 
the  idea  of  being  shoved  over  the  precipice 
and  dashed  to  pieces  below,  with  the  possible 
alternative  of  landing  on  the  ledge  where  the 
60 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

lion  was  located.  Our  efforts  at  last  resulted 
in  causing  the  tormented  beast  to  seek  refuge 
elsewhere.  After  abandoning  the  ledge  he  ran 
upon  the  top  of  the  precipice  and  came  so 
close  to  me  that  I  could  have  touched  him — 
but  I  didn't.  A  little  foxhound  ventured  too 
close  and  his  impertinence  was  rewarded  by 
a  snap  from  the  lion  which  grazed  the  dog's 
head  and  slit  his  ear  in  twain.  Instead  of 
taking  to  a  tree,  as  we  had  vainly  hoped,  the 
lion  discovered  a  way  of  getting  down  upon 
another  ledge  of  the  precipice,  more  inacces- 
sible than  the  first,  and  became  concealed  from 
view.  It  became  evident  that  we  were  taking 
too  many  chances,  so  the  guide  and  myself 
found  a  way,  very  steep  and  rough,  below  the 
lion's  last  resort,  where  it  was  just  possible 
to  see,  several  hundred  feet  away,  the  head 
and  neck  of  the  animal.  I  took  careful  aim 
and  fired.  The  bullet  went  a  little  higher 
than  I  intended,  breaking  the  lower  jaw.  I 

wished   to   preserve   the   skull   entire    for   a 
61 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

mount;  but  the  character  of  the  wound  in- 
flicted made  this  impossible.  In  spite  of  the 
injury  received  the  tawny  form  glided  along 
the  almost  perpendicular  side  of  the  precipice, 
picking  out  here  and  there  a  foot  rest  to  aid 
in  its  ascent.  I  fired  another  shot,  which 
struck  behind  the  shoulder,  but  did  not  stop 
the  animal  from  reaching  the  top  of  the 
precipice,  where  the  dogs  soon  discovered 
him.  I  was  not  too  late  to  see  some  of  the 
fight.  In  the  scrimmage  the  lion  got  Turk's 
head  partly  in  his  mouth,  and  for  a  moment  I 
felt  alarmed  on  account  of  the  dog.  For- 
tunately, the  lion's  lower  jaw  refused  to  work, 
and  Turk  got  off  with  light  punishment — 
merely  a  scalp  wound,  from  which  the  blood 
flowed  freely. 

I  began  to  arrange  my  camera,  intending 
to  take  a  snap-shot  of  the  melee,  but  the  shade 
of  the  trees  made  the  light  bad  for  an  instan- 
taneous photograph,  the  only  one  that  could 
be  taken  of  a  moving  scene;  the  guide, 
6? 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

seeing  my  dilemma,  caught  hold  of  the  lion's 
tail,  while  still  fighting  the  dogs,  and  dragged 
the  tangled  bunch  a  few  yards  down  the  side 
of  the  hill  into  the  sunlight.  When  this  was 
done  the  lion  was  dead,  and  I  was  not  able  to 
accomplish  my  purpose.  As  I  surveyed  my 
first  lion  trophy  I  could  not  help  admiring  the 
game  fight  it  had  put  up  against  hopeless 
odds.  There  could  be  no  skepticism  respect- 
ing the  execution  of  its  terrible  teeth,  for  not 
a  few  wounds  were  inflicted  on  the  dogs. 
The  beast  must  have  weighed  170  to  180 
pounds,  and  its  skin  was  in  fine  condition ;  but, 
unfortunately,  the  skull  was  ruined. 

After  hard  hunting  for  about  a  week,  the 
dogs  took  up  a  fresh  scent,  and  in  a  short 
time  they  treed  a  small  lion  which  the  guide 
called  a  "kitten,"  because  it  was  not  full 
grown.  The  branches  of  the  tree  were  quite 
close  together  and  near  the  ground.  One  of 
the  dogs  managed  to  climb  a  considerable 
way  lup  the  tree  by  the  aid  of  the  easy  support 
63 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

the  branches  afforded,  and  was  in  some  peril. 
The  report  of  my  rifle  helped  to  swell  the 
chorus  of  the  dogs,  which  only  abated  when 
their  jaws  were  employed  to  a  better  purpose 
on  the  struggling  "kitten."  The  poor  beast 
which  had  climbed  the  tree  remained  a  dis- 
appointed spectator  of  the  fight,  being  unable 
to  take  part.  Afterward  I  helped  him  down 
from  his  ridiculous  although  somewhat  dan- 
gerous position. 

On  a  number  of  occasions  the  dogs  have 
climbed  trees  for  a  considerable  distance  above 
the  ground.  The  pinon  trees,  where  the  lions 
frequently  take  refuge,  are  supplied  with 
branches  which  begin  to  sprout  near  the  base, 
rendering  the  feat  easier  of  accomplishment, 
but  nevertheless  it  is  a  remarkable  sight  to  see 
a  dog  up  a  tree,  sometimes  furnishing  an  un- 
willing subject  for  a  camera.  Any  one  wish- 
ing to  obtain  some  impression  of  how  a  dog 
would  look  in  such  an  attitude  can  have  his 
curiosity  satisfied  by  examining  the  photo- 
64 


HITTING    THE    TRAIL. 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

graphs  of  wild  animals  in  Mr.  Wallihan's 
remarkable  book,  where  snap-shots  were  taken 
of  some  of  the  dogs  which  were  in  the  pack  I 
hunted  with. 

We  had  barely  skinned  the  "kitten,"  when 
at  some  distance  we  heard  the  pack  baying 
another  animal.  We  rode  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible in  the  direction  we  heard  the  noise.  We 
soon  arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  valley,  which 
lay  some  five  or  six  hundred  feet  below.  The 
baying  broke  upon  our  hearing  with  great  dis- 
tinctness. The  country  beneath  was  free  from 
big  timber,  being  dotted  profusely  with  pifion 
trees  and  smaller  growth,  with  here  and  there 
great  pillars  of  red  sandstone  fashioned  into 
mushroom  shapes  by  the  erosion  of  the  ele- 
ments through  countless  ages.  In  the  clear, 
bright  sunshine  every  object  stood  out  with 
great  distinctness,  producing  a  curious  and 
beautiful  effect. 

It  was  an  attractive  sight  to  watch  the  pack 
as  i|  swiftly  coursed  about  in  the  valley.  It 
65 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

finally  disappeared  around  the  base  of  the 
mountain.  We  took  a  short  cut  across  the  spur 
of  the  mountain  and  soon  caught  the  steady 
baying  of  the  dogs,  and  I  knew  that  something 
was  treed  or  cornered.  On  the  side  of  a  steep 
slope,  which  extended  hundreds  of  feet  down 
to  the  valley,  stood  a  pinon  tree  with  a  fine, 
large  lion  perched  in  its  branches — a  more 
beautiful  pose  for  a  photograph  I  could  hardly 
imagine.  The  light  was  good  and  the  sur- 
roundings all  that  could  be  desired  to  produce 
the  proper  effect.  The  guide  suggested  a 
doubt  in  regard  to  the  lion's  remaining  in  his 
present  position  very  long,  and  that  one  of  us 
should  cover  him  with  a  rifle  while  the  other 
used  the  camera.  My  love  of  sport  is  not  co 
platonic  that  I  could  readily  forego  the  deadly 
part  of  the  pastime  for  the  aesthetic.  So  I 
held  the  rifle  carefully  pointed  at  a  vital  spot, 
and  after  a  little  space  the  animal  quivered, 
as  though  just  about  in  the  act  of  taking  a 
spring  out  of  the  tree,  which,  had  he  effected, 
66 


ROUNDING  UP  CATS  IN  COLORADO 

would  have  sent  him  down  the  slope  at  a  speed 
that  would  have  distanced  the  dogs;  once  at 
large  in  the  rough  country  which  spread 
through  the  valley,  he  would  have  given  us 
another  long  and  fatiguing  chase,  with  a  good 
chance  of  losing  him.  Before  the  trembling 
limbs  could  launch  into  space  a  bullet  pierced 
his  heart  and  he  tumbled  from  his  perch  and 
rolled  nearly  a  hundred  feet  down  the  moun- 
tain side,  where  his  further  descent  was 
arrested  by  the  dogs  in  no  gentle  fashion.  The 
struggle  with  the  lion  was  brief.  The  guide 
and  myself  had  more  of  a  struggle  with  the 
dogs  in  driving  them  away  from  the  carcass. 

I  was  disappointed  to  learn  that  the  guide 
had  not  succeeded  in  getting  a  photo.     If  I 
could  have  had  a  snap-shot  with  the  camera  at 
the  lion  close  by,  while  in  the  act  of  springing, 
with  satisfactory  results,  I  would  have  had 
something  of  more  value  than  the  animal's 
skin. 

II  added  a  few  more  trophies  to  my  collec- 

67 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

tion  before  finishing  my  hunt  for  that  season. 
My  experience,  however,  had  convinced  me 
that  the  best  reminiscences  of  a  hunting  trip 
are  good  photographs  of  wild  animals  in 
their  natural  state.  The  ease  with  which 
trophies  can  often  be  secured,  so  far  as  the 
question  of  skill  is  concerned,  has  somewhat 
taken  the  keen  edge  off  of  my  desire  to  kill. 
Securing  a  good  trophy  is  quite  as  often  a 
question  of  time  and  patience  as  skill.  Cool- 
ness is  also  required,  for  frequently  easy  shots 
are  missed  through  being  over  anxious. 


68 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    CALCASIEU 
PARISH. 

A  FEW  years  ago,  before  a  great  industry 
had  been  developed  in  the  vicinity 
of  Sulphur  City,  La.,  the  natural  condi- 
tions in  that  locality  were  favorable  to  the 
increase  of  migratory  game.  The  ground 
was  low  and  marshy,  but  generally  quite 
flat;  forests  of  resinous  pine  spread  over  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  country.  In 
some  places  the  trees  grew  to  immense  size, 
their  massive  trunks  ascending  for  seventy- 
five  or  eighty  feet  without  a  branch.  The 
soil  in  such  localities  being  free  from  under- 
brush and  covered  with  thick  layers  of  pine 
needles,  yielded  pleasantly  under  the  step  like 
a  soft  plush  carpet.  Currents  of  air  caress- 
ing the  treetops  imparted  the  sound  of  the 
surf  beating  the  shore  at  a  distance.  Stretches 
69 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

of  open  prairie  covered  with  tall  grass  fur- 
nished feeding  spots  for  large  flocks  of  ducks 
and  geese.  When  the  attention  was  not  too 
much  absorbed  with  larger  game,  one  might 
frequently  hear  the  jacksnipe  emit  its  peculiar 
whistle  as  it  shaped  a  zigzag  course  in  its 
flight.  Other  game  was  in  less  abundance. 
I  engaged  an  old  "red  bone"  to  act  as  my 
guide.  Legrand — the  name  by  which  I  will 
introduce  the  new  acquaintance — was  really 
a  Creole,  but  was  said  to  have  a  cross  of 
Indian  blood,  just  enough  to  enable  him  to 
detect  signs  which  escape  the  common  eye. 
A  faithful,  quiet,  uncomplaining  man,  but 
an  excellent  hunter  according  to  his  lights, 
Legrand  had  no  liking  for  the  new-fangled 
notions  of  modern  sportsmen.  He  could 
crawl  through  the  brush  or  long  grass  with 
all  the  stealthiness  of  a  cat,  every  sense  alert, 
and  in  spite  of  wet,  cold  or  any  kind  of  dis- 
comfort would  doggedly  stick  to  his  task 
until  his  game  was  secured.  To  this  old- 
70 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH 

fashioned  hunter  every  cartridge  must  repre- 
sent something.  He  was  not  satisfied  with 
''punching  holes  in  the  air."  A  story  is  told 
of  Legrand  upon  which  I  would  not  care  to 
stake  my  reputation  for  veracity,  although 
somewhat  characteristic  of  the  man. 

A  ranchman  living  in  that  locality  noticed 
a  small  bunch  of  teal  that  were  in  the  habit 
of  using  in  a  pond  not  far  from  his  dwelling. 
He  requested  Legrand  to  try  his  luck  with 
them  the  next  morning,  when  they  could  be 
easily  found.  Legrand,  however,  was  short 
of  ammunition,  so  the  ranchman  gave  him 
a  shell  which  he  jokingly  remarked  was 
enough  for  a  good  shot,  and  he  expected  him 
to  come  back  with  the  whole  bunch,  number- 
ing six.  On  the  ensuing  day  Legrand  de- 
parted before  sunrise,  but  returned  to  break- 
fast empty  handed.  "No  ducks,  Legrand?" 
He  shook  his  head;  "No  ducks."  The  next 
morning  the  result  was  the  same.  "No 
duels,  Legrand?"  "No  ducks." 
71 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

The  third  morning  a  shot  was  heard. 
Legrand  returned  with  three  beautiful  blue- 
winged  teal  hanging  from  each  shoulder. 

"Legrand,  how  did  you  manage  to  have 
so  much  luck  all  of  a  sudden,  when  you  were 
not  able  to  get  anything  the  two  preceding 
mornings?" 

"To-day,"  he  replied,  "was  the  first  time 
I  could  get  them  lined  up  so  that  I  could  bag 
them  all  at  one  shot." 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  make  another 
interesting  acquaintance  in  a  somewhat  singu- 
lar way.  One  afternoon,  when  shooting  on 
the  edge  of  a  marsh  close  by  the  house  where 
I  was  sojourning,  I  became  conscious  of 
someone  near  at  hand.  Turning  around  I 
discovered  an  elderly  man  of  dignified  bear- 
ing, whose  round  ruddy  face,  ornamented 
with  a  long  white  flowing  beard,  rested  upon 
broad  shoulders  and  sturdy  frame.  The  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance  was  mild  and 
kindly,  possessing  a  reflective  cast,  which  was 
72 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH 

somewhat  accentuated  by  a  habit  of  slowly 
stroking  his  beard.  Much  impressed,  I  re- 
garded him  with  a  feeling  of  reverence.  Had 
I  been  present  at  a  revival  meeting,  the  pose 
and  genial  appearance  would  have  suited  the 
occasion,  silence  having  been  secured  by  the 
exhortation,  "Let  us  pray."  I  broke  the 
magic  spell  by  politely  asking  the  new  arrival 
whether  he  was  a  sportsman  and  fond  of 

shooting.     "Can  I  shoot?    By "  (a  blue 

streak  a  yard  long  imparted  all  necessary 
emphasis).  "Young  man,  before  my  eyes 
went  back  on  me,  old  Uncle  Dave  could  hit 
any  living  creature." 

After  a  brief  conversation  my  new  ac- 
quaintance cordially  invited  me  to  visit  him, 
and  also  extended  the  privilege  of  occupying 
his  lodge  at  a  place  called  Sabine  Pass,  about 
twenty  miles  away.  This  is  not  the  noted 
Sabine  Pass  in  Texas,  but  merely  a  local 
name.  All  reports  seemed  to  confirm  the 
reputation  of  Sabine  Pass,  so  I  concluded  to 
73 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

fit  out  an  expedition.  I  chartered  a  prairie 
schooner  and  secured  two  horses  which  the 
guide  said  he  could  get  for  nothing.  I  was 
willing,  however,  to  pay  for  what  I  got,  but 
was  put  off  with  some  dignity.  The  old  say- 
ing, "Never  look  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth" 
seems  somewhat  in  point,  so  I  will  be  sparing 
of  comments.  It  was  a  very  safe  team,  but 
not  much  at  annihilating  space.  A  young 
man  was  engaged  as  cook.  There  was  no 
other  addition  to  the  party,  save  an  old  one- 
eyed  dog. 

A  long,  wearisome  day's  travel  brought  us 
to  a  sheet  of  water  which  surrounded  the 
lodge.  This  resulted  from  the  great  quantity 
of  moisture  that  had  accumulated  from  heavy 
rainfalls.  The  cook  rode  ahead,  exploring 
the  way.  The  team  tremulously  negotiated 
the  pass,  but  were  soon  in  difficulties.  One 
of  them  falling  down  in  about  four  feet  of 
water  energetically  strove  to  rise.  Legrand, 
jumping  into  the  icy  water,  began  to  fix  the 
74 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH 

harness,  which  was  no  easy  task.  It  was  too 
dark  to  do  anything,  so  the  horses  were  un- 
coupled from  the  schooner  and  driven  ashore. 
I  mounted  one  horse  behind  the  cook.  The 
animal  became  refractory  and  varied  the 
monotonous  experience  of  the  day  by  buck- 
ing for  a  brief  space.  Finally  the  ship- 
wrecked crew  were  able  to  leave  the  schooner 
in  safety,  with  a  few  things  absolutely  neces- 
sary, but  by  no  means  with  all  that  were 
desired. 

The  bright  glow  of  a  fire  in  the  open 
hearth  of  the  lodge  dispelled  the  gloom  and 
discomfort  of  our  surroundings,  but  Legrand 
was  chilled  to  the  bone  and  looked  peaked 
and  miserable.  My  sympathy  was  excited, 
and  I  prescribed  a  liberal  dose  from  my 
flask  which  immediately  revived  him.  Fortu- 
nately we  had  taken  the  precaution  to  cover 
the  contents  of  the  wagon,  which  otherwise 
would  have  suffered  on  account  of  the  rain 
that  fell  during  the  night.  Our  meagre  re- 
75 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

past  finished,  it  was  not  a  great  while  before 
one  after  another  dozed  off  into  fitful  slum- 
ber. One  blanket  covered  the  forms  of  three 
men,  and  in  place  of  under  bedding  and 
spring  mattress  we  had  the  board  floor.  The 
steady  pour  of  the  rain  resounded  continually 
upon  the  roof,  while  the  snap  of  the  pine 
fagots  mingled  with  the  hiss  of  drops  of 
water  falling  on  the  burning  embers.  It  is 
not  easy  for  three  persons  to  sleep  under  one 
blanket  resting  upon  a  hard  surface.  The 
disposition  to  change  position  became  a  fixed 
habit  with  all  three,  but  invariably  the  one 
who  attempted  it  met  with  unreasonable 
objections  and  muttered  protests  from  the 
other  two.  If  one  turned  over  all  three  had 
to  follow  suit.  It  seemed  to  be  a  case  where 
the  minority  ruled,  while  the  majority  swore 
at  the  minority.  The  one-eyed  dog,  becoming 
restless  from  the  cold  when  the  fire  went  out, 
repeatedly  attempted  to  find  a  place  for  him- 
self under  the  blanket,  but  discovered  that  a 
76 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH 

triple  alliance  had  been  formed  to  eliminate 
him  completely.  Finally  he  offered  to  com- 
promise by  lying  down  on  the  outside  of  the 
blanket  above  our  prostrate  forms,  but  this 
accommodation  was  likewise  unfeelingly  re- 
jected. During  that  awful  night  every  man's 
hand  appeared  to  be  against  his  neighbor  and 
all  three  united  against  the  dog. 

I  was  at  length  awakened  from  a  semi- 
conscious condition  by  Legrand,  who  was 
about  to  light  a  fire. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Legrand?"  I  in- 
quired. "Are  you  getting  cold?" 

"It's  time  to  get  up." 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"About  4  o'clock." 

How  he  knew  I  could  not  guess,  but  I  was 
only  too  ready  to  accept  any  excuse  that 
would  rescue  me  from  almost  the  worst  night 
I  ever  experienced.  It  was  pitch  dark,  but 
the  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  noise  of  game 
stirring  outside  betokened  the  coming  dawn. 
77 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

A  dense  fog  hung  over  the  prairie  and  when 
light  began  to  make  an  impression  it  was  like 
illuminating  an  opaque  substance.  It  was 
impossible  to  distinguish  anything  over  six 
yards  away.  Having  removed  everything 
from  the  schooner  the  problem  of  dragging 
it  to  dry  land  did  not  concern  us. 

The  growing  day  was  heralded  by  a  per- 
fect Babel  of  voices.  Invisible  flocks  of 
ducks  numbering  thousands  frequently  stirred 
the  air  with  the  rapid  movements  of  their 
wings,  which  sounded  like  an  express  train. 
The  measured  honk  of  wild  geese  gave  evi- 
dence of  their  presence  in  no  beggarly  num- 
bers. At  intervals  the  brant  in  the  long  sour 
bog  grass  invited  an  easy  shot.  When  mat- 
ters were  straightened  out  no  time  was  lost 
in  starting  out  for  feathered  game. 

The  hunt  began  as  soon  as  we  stepped  out- 
doors. Small  bunches  of  ducks  were  passed 
by  unnoticed.  Legrand  did  not  believe  in 
wasting  ammunition ;  I  only  had  five  hundred 
78 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH 

shells.  Presently  we  heard  the  calling  of  a 
large  number  of  brant.  That  interested 
Legrand.  The  fog  had  lifted  somewhat,  but 
still  rendered  objects  indistinct  unless  they 
were  close  at  hand.  I  imitated  Legrand  in 
all  his  movements;  first  the  quiet,  cautious 
approach,  gradually  bending,  until  finally  we 
were  crawling  on  our  stomachs  through  the 
grass  and  mud.  We  were  already  quite  near 
the  brant  and  I  was  becoming  apprehensive 
lest  we  should  delay  too  long.  A  large  flock 
of  teal  unexpectedly  attracted  my  attention 
on  the  left  side  and  I  motioned  to  Legrand. 
He  shook  his  head,  but  I  signified  that  I  was 
satisfied  to  try  my  luck  with  them.  Legrand 
disapproved  but  yielded  to  my  suggestion, 
except  that  he  drew  a  bead  on  the  brant. 
The  report  of  four  barrels  seemed  almost 
muffled  in  the  uproar  caused  by  great  flocks 
of  birds  rising  in  every  direction,  churning 
the  air  with  their  wings  and  filling  space  with 
a  discordant  conglomeration  of  sounds  from 
79 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

every  species  of  web-footed  fowl  on  the 
prairie.  When  the  gray  mist  had  swallowed 
the  black  mass,  a  pleasant  sight  welcomed  our 
eyes.  The  ground  was  plentifully  covered 
with  limp  forms,  a  handsome  tribute  to  the 
prowess  of  our  guns.  The  beam  of  joy  on 
Legrand's  weatherbeaten  face  satisfied  me 
that  so  far  we  had  not  been  unduly  wasteful 
of  ammunition.  Fearing  lest  there  might  be 
some  lingering  doubt  in  his  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject, I  sought  to  console  him  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  I  still  had  four  hundred  and  ninety- 
six  shells  left. 

No  time  was  lost  in  collecting  the  game. 
I  stuffed  the  big  pockets  of  my  hunting  coat 
with  teal  and  brant.  Legrand  fastened  them 
to  the  fringes  of  his  jacket  until  he  was 
almost  covered  with  the  dark  bodies  of  brant 
and  the  beautifully  colored  teal.  I  warned 
Legrand  to  kill  every  bird  he  gathered,  but 
he  was  careless  in  carrying  out  my  sugges- 
tion. On  the  way  back  to  the  lodge  I  heard 
80 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  CALCASIEU  PARISH 

behind  me  a  flutter  of  wings  and  several 
quacks  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  duck  dis- 
appearing in  the  fog.  Legrand  was  stand- 
ing in  a  state  of  stupefaction,  staring  in  the 
direction  the  duck  had  flown.  I  could  not 
help  laughing.  Needless  to  say  he  made  sure 
of  the  rest. 

Surfeited  with  abundance  of  game,  the 
pastime  soon  palled  on  me.  After  several 
days'  sport  I  was  ready  to  return  to  more 
comfortable  quarters  where  the  shooting  was 
productive  of  smaller  results,  but  more  to  my 
taste.  Jacksnipe,  which  were  quite  plentiful, 
furnished  an  opportunity  for  skillful  marks- 
manship, but  the  high  standard  of  economy 
in  using  ammunition  established  for  me  by 
Legrand  was  shamefully  lowered.  Jacksnipe 
did  not  swarm  before  the  muzzle  of  my  gun, 
nor  was  one  bagged  in  every  shot.  This  kind 
of  shooting  is  excellent  for  training  the  eye, 
and  no  sportsman  need  be  chagrined  at  an 
occasional  miss. 

81 


AN  OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

"  D  OUGHING  IT"  is  an  expression 
JLV  which  we  have  long  associated  with 
various  hardships  undergone  for  the  sake  of 
sport.  But  modern  enterprise  has  made  that 
phrase  a  misnomer  when  taken  in  the  sense  in 
which  it  was  formerly  understood.  A  number 
of  years'  experience  in  camping  out  and  hunt- 
ing in  the  West  have  convinced  me  that  every 
reasonable  comfort  can  be  enjoyed  without 
sacrificing  the  principal  object  which  lies 
nearest  the  heart  of  a  thorough  sportsman — 
good  hunting. 

The  last  outing  I  had  in  the  West,  was  in 
Wyoming,  in  the  Jackson  Hole  country,  and 
I  realized  then  how  thoroughly  a  guide,  who 
enjoys  the  comforts  of  life  himself  and  has 
the  real  love  of  sport,  can  contribute  to  the 
success  of  a  hunting  trip.  A  guide  who  likes 
82 


THE    TETON    RANGE. 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

to  make  himself  comfortable  will  generally 
think  of  what  is  necessary  for  the  comfort  of 
those  who  engage  his  services. 

Early  in  October  I  started  out  from  St. 
Anthony,  Idaho,  with  my  guide,  Ed.  Sheffield, 
on  one  of  the  most  pleasurable  and  successful 
hunts  I  have  undertaken.  A  couple  of  days' 
drive  and  we  reached  Shives'  ranch,  at  which 
place  we  made  up  the  pack  outfit.  A  short 
rest  at  this  spot  while  things  were  being  got  in 
readiness  was  very  pleasant,  as  it  gave  me  a 
chance  to  stretch  my  limbs  and  to  admire  the 
grand  perspective,  which  no  words  can  de- 
scribe in  a  way  that  would  bring  the  natural 
picture  to  the  eye.  The  Teton  peaks,  cov- 
ered with  perpetual  snow  and  dazzling  bright, 
furnished  an  attraction  which  never  palled  on 
the  mind,  and  they  were  ever  visible  from 
the  plain  but  tidy  ranch.  Flotks  of  ducks 
frequented  the  ice  cold  stream  near  by. 

The  horses  having  been  corralled  during 
the  day's  wait,  everything  was  arranged  for 
83 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

the  morning  start.  The  next  day  I  rose  bright 
and  early  to  commence  the  final  stage  of  the 
journey.  When  the  last  pack  had  been 
"cinched"  and  everything  was  in  readiness, 
we  began  our  journey  to  the  hunting  grounds. 
It  was  a  long,  monotonous  ride — much  of  it 
through  thick  timber  with  no  stop  for  lunch 
or  rest,  because  the  heavily  laden  beasts  could 
not  lie  down  with  their  packs  on,  and  we  did 
not  care  to  delay  them.  At  length,  after 
crossing  a  rocky  ravine  and  a  swift-running 
stream  and  climbing  a  steep  ascent,  we  arrived 
at  Two-Ocean  Pass.  There  we  found  an 
ideal  spot  to  camp.  In  a  short  time  every- 
thing was  unpacked,  and  the  two  tents  were 
pitched.  The  tired  beasts  that  had  borne  the 
brunt  of  the  work  tumbled  over  and  rubbed 
their  backs  in  the  dust  and  snorted  with 
delight. 

The  next  morning  I  started  out  on  horse- 
back   with    Sheffield,    while    the    ranchman, 
Shives,  whom  I  had  engaged  as  cook  and 
84 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

general  helper,  remained  behind  and  minded 
camp.  We  took  with  us  several  dogs,  because 
they  might  be  useful  in  rounding  up  lions  or 
"cats,"  as  they  frequently  call  the  cougar  or 
wildcats  in  that  section.  The  day  passed  with- 
out result,  except  that  I  lost  my  Seitz  spy- 
glasses, which  hung  on  the  pummel  of  my 
saddle  by  a  leather  strap;  this  had  evidently 
caught  on  something  and  snapped.  When  the 
guide  heard  of  the  loss,  he  exclaimed  with 
great  confidence,  "We  must  find  them  to^ 
morrow."  I  was  somewhat  inclined  to  be 
skeptical  about  his  being  able  to  recover  the 
lost  property,  but  I  assented  to  his  going  out 
with  a  little  dog  he  called  Maiden,  a  cross  of 
a  black-and-tan  foxhound  and  a  bloodhound, 
as  intelligent  an  animal  as  I  ever  saw.  He 
came  back  in  a  few  hours  with  the  glasses,  and 
I  was  curious  to  learn  how  he  managed  to 
discover  them.  While  following  our  trail 
of  the  day  before,  he  had  stopped  to  call  the 
dogf,  which  had  fallen  behind  and  stood  yelp- 
85 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

ing  at  something  which  he  had  passed;  upon 
going  to  the  spot,  he  found  the  glasses.  They 
were  not  immediately  in  the  line  of  the  trail, 
but  had  rolled  down  hill  and  were  some  dozen 
feet  away  from  it.  I  wonder  if  that  dog  had 
overheard  our  previous  conversation  and 
knew  what  we  wanted ! 

Although  for  a  couple  of  weeks  the  weather 
had  been  cool  and  exhilarating,  often  freezing 
at  night,  still  we  had  as  yet  no  snow.  Snow 
was  wanted,  because  it  makes  the  hunting 
good,  and  when  traveling  the  impress  of  the 
foot  is  practically  noiseless,  and  does  not 
alarm  the  game.  Moreover,  when  the  snow 
accumulates  in  deep  drifts  it  drives  the  elk 
and  deer  out  of  the  higher  elevations  down 
into  the  lower  country,  where  they  collect  in 
large  numbers  and  become  less  shy. 

One  evening  on  the  way  back  to  camp  the 

guide  was  explaining  to  me  why  he  thought 

that  we  would  be  apt  to  find  bull  elk  with  the 

best  heads  separated  from  the  bunch  of  cow 

86 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

elk.  The  old  bulls,  it  would  seem,  after  a 
time  are  driven  off  by  the  younger  bulls, 
which  in  turn  take  charge  of  the  herds  of 
cow  elk.  The  conversation  was  suddenly  in- 
terrupted, for  on  a  knoll  about  300  yards 
distant,  we  saw  two  fine  bulls  all  by  them- 
selves. To  dismount  and  take  aim  with  my 
Mauser  after  gauging  the  space,  was  a  matter 
of  a  few  seconds.  The  furthest  of  the  two  bulls 
was  a  stately  monarch,  and  he  had  a  set  of 
antlers  which  tempted  me  as  much  as  a  crown 
could  have  tempted  Caesar.  The  first  shot 
fortunately  took  effect  behind  the  shoulders 
and  made  him  sag  on  his  knees,  but  he  im- 
mediately recovered  and  started  to  run.  The 
next  shot  was  over  him,  and,  before  I  could 
fire  again,  the  other  bull  ran  in  between  and 
blanketed  him,  receiving  the  ball.  They 
stood  for  several  seconds  in  that  position, 
while  two  more  messengers  of  death  sang  a 
doleful  dirge  on  their  errand  of  destruction, 
and  they  disappeared  over  the  hill. 
87 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

The  atmosphere  in  that  country  is  naturally 
blue;  but  there  was  a  tinge  of  blueness  in 
the  air  at  that  time  which  I  am  sure  was  not 
natural.  Sheffield  said  he  was  not  the  cause 
of  it,  and  I  know  that  I  was  not  to  blame. 
I  have  heard  of  somebody  swearing  until  the 
air  became  blue,  but  this  does  not  seem  to  be 
one  of  those  cases. 

However,  we  were  both  convinced  that  the 
first  bull  was  hit  twice  at  least,  and  more  than 
likely  would  not  go'  a  great  ways.  It  was 
inexpedient  to  follow  him  up  at  that  time, 
because  he  was  still  fresh  and  strong.  It 
seemed  best  to  go  back  to  camp  and  come  out 
the  next  day  and  track  him,  because  he  would 
be  likely  to  run  only  a  short  distance,  and 
lying  down  to  rest,  would  become  stiff,  and 
incapable  of  running,  in  which  case  he  could 
be  found  in  the  morning.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  pursued,  he  might  continue  to  run  while 
his  strength  held. 

With  anxious  hearts  we  returned  to  camp, 
88 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

noting  with  apprehension  the  lowering  clouds 
that  were  beginning  to  darken  the  sky.  The 
indications  of  a  storm  which  would  cover  the 
ground  with  snow  were  not  welcome  now,  as 
much  as  I  had  desired  it  previously.  Fresh 
snow  would  conceal  the  tracks  and  destroy  the 
scent  on  the  ground.  If  that  should  happen, 
I  had  small  expectation  of  securing  my  trophy. 
The  next  morning  the  guide  looked  into  my 
tent,  and  said  that  everything  was  covered 
with  snow.  I  immediately  went  out  to  see 
for  myself.  There,  sure  enough,  it  lay  several 
inches  deep.  It  covered  the  trees,  bending  the 
branches  under  their  weight  and  transform- 
ing, as  if  by  magic,  the  rugged  landscape  into 
a  fairyland.  It  was  beautiful — but  it  was 
disappointing. 

After  breakfast  we  set  out,  taking  one  of 
the  dogs  with  us.  When  we  reached  the  spot 
where  the  elk  had  been  shot  the  keen-scented 
dog  began  to  sniff  the  tops  of  the  sag'e  brush 
which  stood  about  two  feet  high.  We  fol- 
89 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

lowed  him  as  he  confidently  pursued  his  way 
through  the  sage  brush  and  timber,  until 
finally,  ascending  a  small  knoll,  I  espied,  just 
over  the  crest,  the  tops  of  the  antlers  spread 
out  like  the  branches  of  a  tree.  The  elk  was 
stretched  out  in  beautiful  repose,  his  neck 
supported  against  a  fallen  tree,  which  held 
up  his  antlers. 

At  last  my  trophy  was  won,  and  I  had 
something  to  show  to  admiring  friends. 

For  the  present  the  keen  edge  was  taken 
off  my  desire  to  kill,  because  I  had  something 
to  take  back  as  a  memento  of  the  trip.  A  fine 
trophy  serves  to  identify  most  appropriately 
a  hunting  experience,  and  as  the  years  roll  by 
the  memories  of  certain  camps  cluster  about 
each  head  and  revive  thrilling  scenes  which 
might  otherwise  become  dimmed  amid  an 
uncongenial  environment. 

A  considerable  portion  of  my  remaining 
time  I  spent  in  easy  life  in  camp.  The  meat 
was  a  welcome  addition  to  the  larder  and 
90 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

was  much  appreciated  by  the  dogs.  When 
first  killed,  the  flesh  of  the  bull  elk  is  not  par- 
ticularly toothsome;  it  should  be  allowed  to 
hang  for  a  time  until  it  becomes  tender. 

It  was  an  entertaining  sight  to  see  the  dogs 
catch  the  large  hunks  of  meat  flung  to  them, 
which  they  often  swallowed  without  masticat- 
ing it,  unless  one  or  two  bites  could  be  exag- 
gerated into  an  act  of  mastication.  When 
hunger  was  appeased  to  the  extent  of  a  sur- 
feit, the  cunning  animals  would  still  continue 
to  accept  gifts  of  raw.  meat,  which  they  would 
carefully  cache  in  some  favorite  spot.  Each 
dog  knew  where  he  had  cached  his  own  sup- 
plies, and  expected  every  other  dog  to  respect 
it.  Occasional  disputes  arose  among  them,  but 
— though  with  a  bad  grace — the  dog  with  a 
guilty  conscience  generally  yielded  when  de- 
tected in  the  act  of  violating  the  law  which 
holds  a  cache  sacred  among  dogs  as  among 
men. 

There  are  certain  very  simple  and  rudi- 
91 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

mentary  laws  which  the  primitive  life 
develops.  The  rule  that  the  cache  shall 
remain  inviolate  is  well  known.  The  absence 
of  adequate  protection  for  a  cache  beyond  its 
secrecy,  which  is  not  always  sufficient,  makes 
it  a  point  of  honor  among  the  rough  denizens 
of  the  wilderness  to  respect  property  so  de- 
posited. In  a  primitive  state  of  society,  when 
recourse  to  such  means  of  providing  for 
emergency  were  more  frequent,  the  frontier 
man  was  likely  to  regard  as  worthy  of  death 
any  one  who  violated  this  law. 

When  I  read  of  the  ruthless  slaughter 
which  has  been  wrought  among  the  elk,  espe- 
cially by  the  detestable  tooth-hunter,  I  recall, 
with  some  degree  of  satisfaction,  the  for- 
bearance which  I  exercised  upon  various  occa- 
sions. One  evening,  while  returning  to  camp, 
I  saw  in  the  waning  light,  about  the  space  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  yards  removed  from 
where  I  stood,  three  bull  elk  standing  on  the 
side  of  a  hill,  their  forms  fairly  well  defined 
92 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

against  the  white  background  which  the  snow 
afforded.  The  antlers  were  less  distinct  on 
account  of  the  deadening  effect  of  some  spruce 
trees,  whose  branches  reached  below  the 
spread  of  the  antlers.  I  wanted  another 
trophy,  but  was  uncertain  about  the  quality 
of  any  one  of  the  heads  in  sight.  Although  I 
watched  the  bulls  for  some  time,  while  they 
remained  practically  without  motion,  I  was 
unable  to  make  sure  that  there  was  a  really 
first-class  head  in  the  bunch.  I  finally  gave 
them  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  If  I  made  a 
mistake,  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  I  erred  on  the  right  side. 

The  time  arrived  for  breaking  up  camp. 
When  the  horses  were  packed,  the  guide  and 
myself  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  outfit, 
in  order  to  secure  better  hunting.  We  had  not 
traveled  far,  when  one  of  the  dogs  stopped 
and  growled.  We  both  reined  up,  while  I 
dismounted  and  approached  the  edge  of  a 
clearing  just  ahead.  Across  the  clearing  some 
93 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

eighty  or  ninety  yards  distant  I  saw  a  brown 
body  disappearing  amid  the  spruces.  Aiming 
at  the  spot  where  the  shoulder  should  be, 
concealed  by  the  forest  gro»wth,  a  trifle  in  ad- 
vance of  the  brown,  which  I  recognized  as 
the  belly  of  the  elk,  I  fired.  Stunned  by  the 
bullet,  the  animal  broke  into  another  opening, 
when  I  emptied  my  magazine,  which  con- 
tained several  additional  cartridges.  For- 
tunately the  animal  turned  out  to  be  a  bull 
elk  with  a  fairly  good  spread.  I  should  not 
have  taken  the  chance  except  that  my  hunting 
for  this  season  was  practically  over,  and  I 
had  not  shot  my  full  allowance.  Having 
dressed  the  animal  so  as  to  keep  its  meat  from 
spoiling,  we  left  everything  and  followed  the 
outfit.  Shives  was  sent  back  with  a  pack 
horse  to  get  the  meat  and  the  antlers. 

At  the  Shives  ranch  a  hearty  welcome  was 

given   us.      Mrs.   Shives   proved  herself   an 

admirable  hostess.     I  shall  never  forget  the 

repast  specially  prepared  for  us  by  which  she 

94 


OUTING  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS 

proved  herself  an  accomplished  cook.  One 
dish  I  approached  with  misgiving,  for  I  could 
not  guess  what  it  was.  I  discovered  in  it  a 
culinary  gem  which  in  my  judgment  will  hold 
its  own  with  anything  ever  prepared  by  the 
most  accomplished  chef  to  please  a  capricious 
palate — elk's  brain  scrambled  in  eggs.  My 
cup  of  happiness  was  filled  to  the  brim,  but 
the  guide  caused  it  to  run  over  when  he  pre- 
sented me  with  a  pair  of  untanned  cow  skin 
shaps  marked  with  red  and  white  spots,  which 
he  wore  when  dressed  up  to  have  his  picture 
taken  in  correct  style. 


95 


CAMP    LIFE    NEAR    THE    TETONS 

ONE  of  the  most  picturesque  sections  of 
our  country  lies  in  the  valleys  and  de- 
pressions formed  by  the  Gallatin  River  where 
it  winds  its  way  among  the  rugged  moun- 
tains of  Montana.  Sometimes  the  river  steals 
noiselessly  through  level  spots,  forming  great 
pools  of  clear  greenish  water,  where  the  big 
rainbow  trout  love  to  bask  in  the  sunshine 
which  the  gamy  fish  love  for  its  brightness 
more  than  its  warmth.  Frequently  the 
stream  challenges  the  obstructions  of  masses 
of  rock,  forcing  its  way  with  angry  murmurs 
to  its  destination.  Amid  such  scenes  I  fell 
into  repose,  while  sitting  near  a  large  camp- 
fire,  yielding  to  the  heaviness  due  to  a  hearty 
meal  and  a  long  day's  travel  on  horseback. 
I  do  not  remember  how  I  managed  to 
make  up  my  rustic  bed,  or  whether  I  had 
96 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

anything  to  do  with  it  at  all.  I  simply  recall 
the  quiet  scenes  around  the  camp-fire,  the 
ruddy  faces  of  my  companions  as  they  caught 
the  glow  from  the  burning  fagots  and  the 
wild  scene  which  surrounded  us.  I  entered 
dreamland  in  the  same  way  everyone  else 
does.  The  unreal  realm  of  fancy  I  accepted 
as  a  matter  of  course,  but  when  the  chill  of 
a  cold  autumn  night  gradually  revived  me 
to  consciousness  and  the  sullen  gloom  of  the 
silent  forest,  only  broken  by  a  murmuring 
stream  nearby,  had  succeeded  the  cheerful 
camp-fire,  I  returned  to  the  world  of  reality 
with  a  feeling  of  strangeness  and  wonder.  I 
rubbed  my  eyes  to  make  sure  if  I  was  really 
awake,  and  lay  watching  the  stars  shining 
brightly  overhead.  The  beauty  of  the  night, 
however,  was  not  sufficient  to  keep  me  awake, 
and  when  I  had  finished  my  night's  rest  it 
was  broad  daylight,  and  my  two  companions, 
Jake  and  Aleck,  were  already  astir.  Aleck  was 
the  cook  and  general  handy  man  about  camp. 
97 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

Jake  acted  as  guide  and  horse  wrangler. 
These  men  could  take  a  turn  at  helping  each 
other,  but  each  had  his  special  work  cut  out 
for  him.  In  packing  and  pitching  tents  they 
were  mutually  helpful.  Whenever  things 
went  wrong  and  descriptive  language  was 
required  to  soothe  irritated  feelings,  their 
common  desire  to  aid  each  other  developed 
into  a  generous  rivalry.  Aleck  was  busy 
getting  breakfast  ready,  but  the  other  man 
was  not  in  sight. 

"Where  is  Jake?"  I  asked. 
"Gone  after  the  horses,"  Aleck  answered 
"Do  you  suppose  they  are  gone  far?" 
"Oh,  maybe  a  mile,  maybe  fifteen,"  was 
the  enlightening  response. 

When  camping  out  in  the  Western  country 
horses  are  an  uncertain  quantity.  They  are 
apt  to  wander  over  a  considerable  space  in 
search  of  good  pasturage,  which  is  not  easy 
to  find  on  account  of  the  extreme  dryness  of 
the  soil  and  the  difficulty  of  any  vegetation 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

thriving  which  cannot  shoot  its  roots  deep 
into  the  earth.  Fortunately  Jake  soon  ap- 
peared with  the  stock. 

"We  will  have  the  tents  up  so  that  you 
can  be  comfortable  to-night,"  he  remarked 
with  a  look  as  though  he  were  conveying  a 
most  welcome  piece  of  intelligence,  for  we 
had  been  sleeping  out  in  the  open  for  several 
nights. 

With  the  air  of  one  who  despised  all  such 
things  as  enervating  luxuries,  I  replied: 
"Let  that  go  to  some  other  time;  we  want 
to  get  an  early  start  after  something." 

"It  won't  take  long  to  put  up  the  tents  and 
then  Aleck  can  get  everything  else  to  rights 
while  we  are  hunting,"  Jake  replied. 

I  ate  a  substantial  breakfast,  and  after 
finishing  that  meal  I  ate  a  substantial  lunch 
before  starting.  Needless  to  say,  I  felt  in 
no  condition  for  vigorous  exercise  which  I 
would  be  compelled  to  take  when  our  course 
led  over  ascents  too  steep  to  take  on  horse- 

99 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

back.  About  lunch  time,  however,  my 
capricious  and  unreasoning  stomach,  like 
some  people  who  are  mere  slaves  of  custom 
and  routine,  demanded  a  square  meal,  which 
was  not  to  be  had. 

Two  dogs,  which  served  more  as  sociable 
companions  about  camp  than  in  any  other 
capacity,  accompanied  us.  One  of  the  dogs 
was  a  large-sized  bull-terrier,  rather  old  and 
at  times  inclined  to  be  cross.  This  animal 
answered  to  the  name  of  Major.  Major  had 
a  peculiar  trait,  which  it  is  hard  to  account 
for.  In  the  evening,  when  the  cook  pulled 
out  his  harmonicon  and  began  to  perform 
on  it,  Major  would  stick  his  nose  straight  up 
in  the  air  and  emit  the  most  doleful  and 
lugubrious  wail  I  ever  listened  to. 

The  other  dog  was  a  fox-terrier,  named 
Jack,  like  most  of  his  species,  a  very  animated 
little  creature,  always  ready  for  a  scrap. 
This  disposition  was  a  source  of  annoyance 
at  times,  because  Jack  had  a  strong  prejudice 

100 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

against  porcupines,  and  on  several  occasions 
I  have  had  to  sit  on  the  ground  and  help  pull 
the  quills  out  of  his  hide  after  one  of  these 
encounters. 

As  I  was  leisurely  riding  along  some  dis- 
tance behind  the  guide  I  saw  him  stop  on  a 
slight  elevation  somewhat  in  advance,  and 
at  the  same  time  I  heard  the  dogs  barking 
very  savagely.  Jake  made  a  sign  to  me  to 
hurry  up.  When  I  arrived  at  the  spot  I  saw 
a  couple  of  coyotes  not  more  than  forty  yards 
away  yelping  and  tantalizing  the  dogs.  I 
dismounted,  after  pulling  my  rifle  out  of  its 
scabbard,  and  brought  it  carelessly  to  my 
shoulder.  Jake  in  the  meantime  had  un- 
sheathed his  knife  ready  to  strip  the  hides. 

I  fired,  and,  much  to  my  surprise,  both  of 
the  coyotes  vanished  with  startling  sudden- 
ness. I  had  evidently  missed,  probably  over- 
shooting. I  think  it  was  about  the  worst 
sh$t  I  ever  made,  and  I  never  could  under- 
stand it.  A  sportsman  will  once  in  a  while 
101 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

flinch  through  some  muscular  contraction 
which  it  is  hard  to  account  for.  The  thick 
sage  brush  and  intervening  hills  made  a 
second  shot  practically  hopeless.  Jake 
seemed  overcome  with  emotion,  quite  as 
much  as  myself.  For  once  his  eloquent 
tongue  failed  him;  the  words  appeared  to 
stick  in  his  throat.  His  wide  open  eyes  and 
his  distended  jaws,  which  seemed  to  be  pried 
open  with  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  one  corner  of 
his  mouth,  betrayed  his  astonishment.  In 
silence  we  remounted  and  rode  a  considerable 
space  without  speaking  a  word. 

Finally  Jake  opened  the  conversation  with 
all  the  tact  of  an  accomplished  diplomat. 

Turning  in  his  saddle  and  looking  intently 
at  me  he  exclaimed:  "Say,  do  you  know 
what  I  would  do  if  I  missed  a  shot  like  that?" 

"No,"  I  replied. 

"I  would  take  that  gun  and  smash  it  over 
the  first  rock  I  came  across." 

I  quite  agreed  with  him  that  it  was  the 

102 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

fault  of  the  gun,  but,  strange  to  say,  I  did 
not  take  his  advice.  I  still  have  the  weapon 
and  I  can  recall  some  of  its  achievements, 
which  are  not  wholly  discreditable. 

Several  days  passed  quite  uneventfully 
except  for  a  rather  novel  experience.  While 
sitting  around  the  camp-fire  one  evening  our 
attention  was  attracted  by  the  noise  of  some 
animal  breaking  through  the  undergrowth. 
The  sound  of  cracking  branches  and  patter- 
ing hoofs  seemed  to  approach  closer. 

"That's  one  of  the  horses,  and  he  seems 
inclined  to  be  sociable,"  said  Jake  as  he 
leaned  over  to  lay  hold  of  a  good-sized  stick 
to  cast  at  him. 

The  animal  presently  appeared,  coming 
straight  to  the  camp-fire,  but  when  fairly 
revealed  by  the  light  the  horse  we  were  about 
to  drive  unceremoniously  away  developed  a 
splendid  set  of  antlers.  We  were  confronted 
by  a  black-tailed  deer  which  had  been 
attracted  by  the  strange  fascination  of  the 
103 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

blaze  to  within  several  paces,  where  he  stood 
perfectly  still.  No  one  moved  nor  uttered 
a  word  for  a  considerable  space  for  fear  of 
alarming  our  timid  guest.  It  was  a  charm- 
ing sight  to  watch  the  graceful  and  shapely 
form  of  the  deer,  his  head  crowned  with  a 
perfectly  balanced  set  of  antlers,  the  wide 
open  eyes  staring  in  bewilderment  at  three 
rough  looking  men  sitting  around  the  fire  like 
petrified  images.  The  deer  held  his  position 
for  some  thirty  seconds  rigid  and  immovable, 
except  the  swelling  of  his  sides  in  breathing, 
while  the  glowing  embers  brought  out  in 
distinct  view  every  line  and  muscle  of  the 
body  against  the  dark  background  of  the 
forest. 

He  posed  like  a  beautiful  statue  with  all 
the  advantage  of  picturesque  and  weird  sur- 
roundings to  set  off  his  perfect  figure. 

What  a  chance  for  a  photographer  to  take 
a  snapshot  of  the  group  with  a  flashlight. 
Sad  to  relate,  the  only  impression  I  could 
104 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

take  away  with  me  was  that  which  was 
photographed  upon  my  mind.  In  place  of 
a  photograph  to  show  to  my  friends  I  am 
compelled  to  relate  the  bare  circumstance 
with  but  limited  power  to  portray  the  scene 
in  words ;  the  imagination  of  the  reader  must 
do  the  rest. 

How  long  the  tableau  would  have  lasted 
I  cannot  say,  if  I  had  not  pulled  the  curtain, 
so  to  speak,  by  attempting  to  reach  out  and 
get  my  rifle,  which  was  nearby.  I  knew  it 
was  a  desperate  chance,  but  I  was  extremely 
anxious  to  secure  the  head  of  our  handsome 
guest. 

Hardly  had  I  attempted  to  move  my  hand 
in  the  direction  of  the  rifle,  although  very 
slowly,  than  the  watchful  eyes  seemed  to  be- 
come conscious  of  something  wrong,  and  the 
spell  was  broken.  With  a  single  leap  the 
deer  cleared  the  lighted  space  and  was  lost 
in  the  darkness  of  the  forest. 

It  is  a  well  known  fact  that  wild  animals 
105 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

and  birds  are  stupefied  at  the  appearance  of 
artificial  light.  Birds  are  often  attracted  by 
it,  while  animals,  dazed  by  the  strangeness 
of  the  sight  and  the  glare,  seem  to  lose  at 
times  all  power  of  motion.  Whether  it  is 
because  of  curiosity  or  on  account  of  the 
judgment  becoming  paralyzed  through  ex- 
cessive fear,  artificial  light  of  great  intensity 
seems  to  deprive  a  wild  animal  of  his  usual 
cunning  and  alertness.  Wildfowl,  such  as 
ducks  and  geese,  are  notably  affected  in  the 
same  way.  "Firelighting,"  which  it  is  well 
known,  involves  the  destruction  of  so  many 
thousands  of  game  birds  every  year,  fairly 
illustrates  and  proves  the  foregoing  state- 
ment. Insects  seem  strangely  attracted  by 
artificial  lights  and  frequently  pay  for  their 
temerity  with  their  lives.  What  impression 
artificial  light  makes  upon  wild  animals  it  is 
hard  to  state.  Sportsmen  know  how  easily 
a  deer  can  be  taken  at  a  disadvantage  by 
"jacking,"  but  this  does  not  account  for  one 
106 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

entering  the  lighted  circle  of  a  camp-fire. 
Instances  of  wild  animals  being  approached 
when  stupefied  by  the  presence  of  artificial 
light  are  plentiful,  but  I  have  never  known 
before  of  any  animal  actually  invading  a 
camp  and  standing  in  front  of  the  fire. 

When  we  had  exhausted  comment  upon 
the  unusual  incident,  which  was  the  absorb- 
ing theme  for  conversation  for  the  balance  of 
the  evening,  a  good  night's  sleep  came  as 
relaxation  from  the  exercise  of  the  day. 

The  morning  broke  bright  and  clear  and 
quite  cold.  Breakfast  was  soon  bolted  down. 
An  abomination  which  Aleck  called  a  pan- 
cake was  the  principal  article  of  our  repast. 
This  dish  compensated  by  its  size  and  quan- 
tity for  what  it  lacked  in  other  respects.  Even 
Jake,  whose  digestion  might  excite  the  envy 
of  an  ostrich,  hesitated  before  tackling  a 
second  one.  Aleck,  seeing  his  uncertain  look, 
asked  him  whether  he  would  have  another 
pancake. 

107 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

"Only  a  small  piece  about  the  size  of  your 
foot,"  Jake  replied. 

Having  saddled  the  horses  the  guide  took 
a  course  which  led  along  a  rocky  defile  for 
a  considerable  distance.  While  looking  up 
at  the  red  sandstone  cliffs,  which  overhung 
us,  and  admiring  the  contrast  their  rugged 
outlines  furnished  against  the  clear  blue  of 
the  sky,  I  saw  a  large  bald-headed  eagle 
perched  upon  a  commanding  eminence.  His 
figure  was  sharply  defined  in  the  clear  atmos- 
phere, and  although  I  knew  he  was  quite  a 
distance  off,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  when 
the  guide  computed  the  range  at  300  yards 
at  least.  I  reined  up  my  horse  and  threw 
the  lines  over  his  head.  As  Jake  saw  me 
alight  to  take  aim,  a  sort  of  weary  expression 
came  over  his  face.  He  was  evidently  think- 
ing of  the  coyotes.  After  carefully  sighting 
the  bird  and  gauging  the  range  according  to 
the  estimate  I  had  received,  I  fired.  For 
several  seconds  the  wings  fluttered,  as  the 
108 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

eagle  strove  to  balance  himself  on  his  perch, 
and  then  he  collapsed  in  a  lifeless  mass,  a 
few  feet  below. 

Having  watched  the  lifeless  shape  a  few 
seconds,  I  reloaded  the  rifle  without  betray- 
ing any  signs  of  emotion  or  uttering  a  word. 
Although  my  eyes  were  turned  in  a  different 
direction,  I  felt  conscious  of  a  penetrating 
gaze  which  seemed  to  go  through  me  like  an 
X-ray  and  read  my  inmost  thought.  Turn- 
ing to  mount  my  horse,  I  met  the  wide-open 
eyes  of  Jake  staring  at  me  in  astonishment. 
Neither  of  us  said  a  word  for  some  time,  but 
Jake  was  thinking,  wondering  whether  it  was 
an  accident  or  a  fair  exhibition  of  my  skill. 
The  only  data  he  had  to  work  on  in  drawing 
his  conclusions  was  the  previous  bad  marks- 
manship in  shooting  at  the  coyotes,  and  the 
telling  recent  shot  at  the  eagle,  which  I 
seemed  to  regard  as  a  matter  of  course,  but 
I  acted  the  same  way  when  I  missed  the 
coyotes. 

109 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

Jake  displayed  the  same  resourcefulness 
that  a  curious  woman  will  sometimes  exercise 
upon  receiving  a  letter:  first  she  looks  at 
the  post-mark,  then  at  the  handwriting  of 
the  address  and,  after  exhausting  all  the  pros 
and  cons  to  determine  what  the  contents  of 
the  letter  are,  finally  strikes  upon  a  happy 
idea — she  opens  the  letter  and  reads  it. 
After  Jake  had  thoroughly  turned  the  inci- 
dent over  in  his  mind  he  finally  remarked, 
in  a  tone  pitched  between  an  exclamation 
and  an  interrogation  point:  "I  guess  you 
were  surprised  when  you  fetched  that  bird 
down  ?"  My  presence  of  mind  did  not  leave 
me;  I  gave  Jake  good  advice  about  marks- 
manship and  shooting  in  general.  He 
thanked  me  and  said  he  hoped  I  would  give 
him  some  points  about  guiding  and  outfitting, 
as  he  was  trying  to  learn  the  business. 

Game  being  rather  scarce  in  this  section 
we  concluded  to  move  camp  and  try  our  luck 
in  the  Jackson's  Hole  country.  For  a  short 
no 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

time  I  made  headquarters  near  a  ranch  on 
Jackson's  Lake.  This  body  of  water  is 
situated  quite  close  to  the  Grand  Tetons, 
which  tower  thousands  of  feet  above  its  sur- 
face. The  crest  of  these  great  formations, 
like  a  mighty  arm  stretching  a  curtain  over 
the  western  sky,  receives  the  rays  of  the  morn- 
ing sun  long  before  they  reach  the  narrow 
valley  below.  It  is  interesting  and  beautiful 
to  see  the  golden  light  slowly  creeping  down 
the  slopes  of  these  great  mountains,  until  at 
last  the  sun,  having  climbed  well  into  the 
sky,  suddenly  pours  its  golden  flood  of  light 
in  one  immense  deluge  into  the  lake.  The 
transition  is  startling. 

The  trout  in  the  lake  grow  to  a  very  large 
size  and  are  very  gamy.  There  are  a  few 
hot  springs  in  this  locality  which,  however, 
do  not  affect  the  temperature  of  the  water, 
which  is  very  cold  the  year  round.  The  lake 
derives  its  main  supply  from  the  melting 
snows  of  the  surrounding  mountains, 
in 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

I  concluded  to  enjoy  a  morning's  sport 
fishing,  and  for  that  purpose  secured  a  boat 
from  the  ranchman  who  threw  in  his  services 
as  well.  We  poled  up  the  outlet,  which  was 
a  very  clear  and  swift  stream.  The  trout 
swarmed  under  the  boat  at  times  in  great 
numbers  and  many  of  them  of  considerable 
size.  Flocks  of  wild  ducks  and  geese,  wing- 
ing their  way  to  their  feeding  grounds,  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  early  morning,  for  it  was 
before  daybreak  that  we  started,  when  the 
stars  were  beginning  to  pale  in  the  sky.  The 
trout  made  their  presence  quite  noticeable, 
frequently  disturbing  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  sometimes  a  big  one  would  stir 
up  an  awful  commotion.  I  soon  had  a  seven- 
pound  trout  securely  hooked,  which  I  landed 
as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  do  so,  because  I 
wanted  a  change  of  diet. 

Although  I  had  been  in  camp  for  a  couple 
of  weeks  I  had  been  unable  to  get  a  shot  at 
an  elk,  and  had  only  seen  one  making  its  way 

112 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

through  the  thick  timber.  The  snow  had  not 
fallen  as  yet,  and  the  ground  was  very  dry, 
which  made  hunting  difficult.  It  was  a  wel- 
come sight  one  morning  to  look  out  of  my 
tent  and  see  the  ground  covered  with  snow, 
and  it  is,  moreover,  surprising  to  notice  what 
a  difference  it  makes  in  hunting.  I  had  not 
traveled  more  than  two  miles  from  camp  on 
foot  when  I  heard  a  long,  loud  whistle — a 
most  pleasing  sound.  I  directed  my  steps  in 
the  direction  whence  it  came,  and  was  re- 
warded by  catching  a  glimpse  of  half  a  dozen 
elk  disappearing  through  an  opening  in  the 
timber.  They  were  not  going  fast,  and  I 
do  not  believe  they  saw  me. 

I  followed  them  as  quickly  and  carefully 
as  I  could  until  I  came  to  the  edge  of  a  steep 
descent,  and  saw  thp  bunch  in  the  valley 
below.  In  the  herd  there  was  a  fine  bull 
who  seemed  proud  of  his  authority,  and 
occasionally  whistled  and  bugled  his  chal- 
lenge to  any  possible  rival  disposed  to  dispute 
113 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

his  lordship  over  the  cows  he  had  assembled 
around  him,  which  by  this  time  had  consider- 
ably increased  in  numbers.  The  distance 
seemed  too  great  to  hazard  a  shot,  and  I 
thought  I  would  circle  around  on  the  higher 
elevations  to  secure  a  closer  range  and  better 
position.  Although  unfrightened,  the  elk 
began  to  move  off  with  a  gentle  ambling  gait 
which  seems  slow,  but  if  one  tries  to  keep  up 
with  it  in  a  rough  mountainous  country  he 
will  find  his  energy  pretty  well  taxed.  I  soon 
lost  sight  of  the  game  and  stopped  partly 
because  I  was  almost  exhausted  and  also  to 
locate  the  herd,  if  it  were  possible  to  hear  it. 
At  first  I  thought  I  heard  the  hoof  beats 
on  the  ground,  but  presently  recognized  that 
it  was  the  action  of  my  heart,  which  was  beat- 
ing so  forcibly  that  I  could  distinctly  hear 
it.  The  high  elevation  and  the  vigorous 
exercise  often  produce  that  effect  upon  one 
who  is  not  used  to  the  climate.  Other  sports- 
men have  had  a  similar  experience.  After 
114 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

pursuing  my  course  some  distance  along  the 
side  of  a  steep  hill  my  attention  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  the  sound  of  breaking  branches 
in  the  spruce  nearby.  I  had  not  long  to  wait 
before  a  spike-horned  elk  stepped  out  in 
front  of  me  not  more  than  twenty-five  or 
thirty  yards  off.  The  large  brown  eyes  were 
looking  straight  at  me  with  a  mildness  and 
apparent  absence  of  fear,  which  removed  all 
thought  of  slaughter  from  my  mind,  although 
at  that  time  I  had  never  killed  an  elk. 

The  poor  quality  of  the  head  as  a  trophy 
determined  my  action.  After  gazing  a  few 
seconds  I  turned  my  steps  in  the  direction  I 
thought  the  herd  had  taken  its  course.  A 
long,  shrill  whistle,  ending  in  a  squeal, 
blended  with  a  bray  like  a  donkey,  soon  in- 
formed me  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  bull  I 
was  seeking.  Climbing  over  the  crest  of  the 
hill  I  finally  caught  sight  of  the  old  bull  in 
thei^ valley  with  a  bunch  of  cow  elk  collected 
around  him,  which  had  increased  by  this  time 
"5 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

to  about  twenty-five  or  thirty.  The  bull 
frequently  threw  his  head  up,  giving  vent 
to  his  peculiar  call,  which  was  answered  now 
and  then  by  several  other  bulls  on  the  sur- 
rounding hills,  none  of  which  seemed  willing 
to  venture  near  him.  I  watched  this 
spectacle  for  some  time,  endeavoring  to  get 
near  enough  to  obtain  a  good  shot. 

Being  alone  and  unaccustomed  to  the 
country  I  was  unable  to  gauge  the  distance 
correctly.  When  finally  I  stopped  at  the 
nearest  point  I  could  reach  to  secure  a  fair 
shot  (I  was  using  on  that  occasion  a  .45-90 
Winchester,  not  one  of  the  modern  high- 
power  guns  with  a  flat  trajectory),  I  fired 
at  the  bull  without  effect  and  saw  the  whole 
bunch  of  cow  elk  come  together  in  a  solid 
mass  and  ascend  the  slope  of  the  neighboring 
mountain.  The  cow  elk  acted  as  though 
panic-stricken,  all  striving  to  get  as  near  the 
center  of  the  bunch  as  possible  while  ascend- 
ing the  slope  and  interfering  considerably 
116 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

with  the  movements  of  one  another  in  so 
doing.  The  bull  remained  behind  until  the 
cows  had  gained  a  considerable  start,  and 
then  followed  them  up  the  mountain.  When 
I  examined  the  distance  from  the  spot  where 
I  stood  when  I  fired  at  the  bull  to  the  point 
where  he  was  located,  I  found  it  over  400 
yards.  Being  unaccustomed  to  gauging  dis- 
tance at  that  time,  I  underestimated  the  range. 
The  atmosphere  is  so  clear  that  objects  obtain 
a  much  clearer  definition  and  seem  at  times 
nearer  than  they  really  are.  A  mistake  in 
underestimating  distance  made  a  greater  dif- 
ference with  the  old  .45-90  than  it  would 
with  modern  high  power  rifles.  I  returned 
to  camp  burning  with  a  desire  to  secure  a 
good  trophy. 

The  next  day  I  went  out  with  Jake.  We 
separated,  agreeing  to  meet  at  a  certain 
place,  which,  through  some  misunderstand- 
'mgj\ we  failed  to  accomplish.  I  soon  ran 
upon  the  tracks  of  a  big  bull  elk,  which  led 
117 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

directly  up  the  steep  side  of  a  mountain. 
This  I  climbed  for  about  six  hundred  feet 
with  some  trouble,  when  I  noticed  that  the 
tracks  had  begun  to  turn  and  tended  down- 
ward. I  continued  to  follow  them  until  they 
brought  me  again  to  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, within  about  thirty  feet  of  the  point 
where  I  first  started  to  trace  them  up.  I 
finally  ran  across  my  guide  again,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  his  keen  eyes  picked  out  an 
elk  at  a  distance  of  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  yards,  just  visible  among  some  spruce 
trees.  It  was  a  cow  elk,  and  I  was  indis- 
posed to  shoot  it,  but  being  reminded  of  the 
condition  of  the  larder  I  concluded  to  try  my 
luck.  The  crack  of  the  rifle  was  followed 
by  the  disappearance  of  the  animal  in  the 
timber,  and  I  thought  I  had  missed,  but  was 
reassured  to  the  contrary,  and  when  I  reached 
the  spot  where  the  elk  had  stood  I  saw  a  few 
traces  of  blood,  which  shortly  led  to  a  brown 
form  lying  among  the  green  spruce  trees — 
118 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

the  elk  was  stone  dead.  Standing  over  Jake, 
who  was  engaged  in  dressing  the  elk,  I  asked 
him  if  he  thought  I  ought  to  smash  the  rifle 
over  a  rock.  Looking  up  from  his  dirty 
work,  besmeared  with  perspiration  and  gore, 
he  replied  with  a  grin,  "Not  when  she  throws 
lead  like  that." 

My  time  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
although  I  had  abundant  opportunities  to  kill 
animals  with  inferior  heads,  that  kind  of 
sport  did  not  satisfy  me,  and  I  left  them  to 
die  a  natural  death,  unless  some  tooth  hunter 
has  cut  their  existence  short. 

The  final  day  passed  without  result,  and  I 
had  to  leave  for  a  later  period  a  more  suc- 
cessful hunt  for  trophies. 

The  last  night  around  the  camp-fire  Jake 
made  entertaining  by  relating  to  me  some  of 
his  personal  experiences.  The  following 
story  was  told  me  as  absolutely  true:  The 
guide  had  struck  the  trail  of  a  mountain  lion, 
which  he  followed  with  his  pack  of  dogs  to 
119 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

a  tree  where  the  trail  ended.  Naturally  he 
expected  to  find  the  lion  in  the  tree.  Much 
to  his  surprise  there  was  no  lion  in  the  tree, 
and  no  tracks  of  a  lion  leading  away  from  the 
tree.  The  only  tracks  discernible  were  the 
tracks  of  an  elk.  Finally  a  bloodhound  in 
the  pack  started  off  on  the  elk  tracks.  This 
seemed  very  strange,  because  the  dogs  had 
been  thoroughly  broken  from  following  any- 
thing except  lions  and  bobcats.  The  guide 
tried  to  call  the  dog  back,  but  he  continued 
to  follow  the  elk  tracks,  and  the  rest  of  the 
pack  joined  in  the  pursuit.  Following  the 
tracks  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  there  ap- 
peared in  the  snow  signs  of  a  struggle,  and 
then  an  impression  upon  the  ground  of  a 
large  animal  which  the  elk  had  evidently  un- 
seated. The  lion's  tracks  were  distinctly 
visible  from  this  point  for  a  considerable 
distance,  until  he  took  refuge  in  a  pinyon 
tree. 

It  was  plain  that  the  mountain  lion  had 

120 


PACK    HORSES    ROUNDED   UP    FOR    THE    RETURN. 


CAMP  LIFE  NEAR  THE  TETONS 

jumped  upon  the  back  of  a  passing  elk  and 
had  stolen  a  free  ride,  which  he  enjoyed  until 
his  saddle  horse  dismounted  him.  "That 
shows  what  a  wonderfully  intelligent  animal 
a  dog  is,"  said  Jake;  "just  to  think  that  they 
should  have  reasoned  it  out  that  the  lion  had 
ridden  off  on  the  elk,  when  I  was  puzzled 
myself  to  find  out  what  had  become  of  him." 
"Do  you  suppose,"  chimed  in  Aleck,  "that 
the  dogs  showed  intelligence  because  they 
knew  more  than  you  did?" 


121 


BLOODLESS    SPORT 

THERE  has  developed  in  recent  years  a 
sentiment  which  has  declared  itself 
strongly  in  opposition  to  taking  animal  life 
for  the  sake  of  sport.  The  camera  has  been 
recommended  as  a  substitute  for  the  death- 
dealing  firearm.  A  great  many  people  have 
discussed  this  subject  without  possessing  a 
clear  idea  of  what  constitutes  real  sport. 

To  obtain  a  better  understanding  of  the 
subject  we  may  classify  those  who  hunt  for 
the  purpose  of  destroying  wild  life  under 
three  divisions:  sportsmen,  market  hunters 
and  butchers.  The  last  expression  I  have 
employed  in  a  peculiar  sense  as  indicating  a 
very  objectionable  class  in  itself.  By  a  pro- 
cess of  elimination  one  may  arrive  at  the  true 
conception  of  a  sportsman  after  first  grasp- 
ing the  meaning  of  the  term  market  hunter 

122 


BLOODLESS  SPORT 

and  butcher,  and  then  disabusing  the  mind  of 
both  of  those  conceptions.  The  term  butcher 
is  applicable  to  whomever  engages  in  the 
wanton  and  wasteful  destruction  of  animal 
life  with  no  idea  of  utilizing  the  remains. 
To  the  mind  of  such  persons  a  sportsman's 
goal  is  a  slaughter  pen.  The  game  butcher 
recognizes  no  rules,  but  prides  himself  on 
the  amount  of  havoc  he  can  produce  in  a 
flock  of  birds  or  a  herd  of  wild  animals,  and 
speaks  with  glee  of  the  quantity  of  game  he 
has  destroyed.  The  market  hunter,  as  the 
name  implies,  is  out  for  business.  The  rules 
of  sport  do  not  interest  him;  it  is  merely  a 
question  of  dollars  and  cents;  he  kills  when 
it  pays  to  kill,  and  tries  to  make  certain  every 
shot,  regarding  any  advantage  he  can  take  as 
perfectly  legitimate.  The  worst  qualities  of 
the  butcher  and  the  market  hunter  combine 
in  the  person  who  hunts  elk  for  the  purpose 
ofi  securing  the  teeth,  allowing  the  antlers 
and  carcass  to  remain  unused.  The  sins  of 
123 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

these  two  classes  are  indiscriminately  laid  on 
the  shoulders  of  the  sportsman  by  people  who 
have  a  misty  idea  about  real  sport. 

The  desire  to  kill  is  instinctive,  and,  re- 
fined under  civilizing  influences,  produces  the 
sportsman.  The  mere  love  of  killing  for  the 
sake  of  doing  so  soon  palled  on  people  who 
had  any  conception  of  sport.  The  true  theory 
of  sport,  whether  in  playing  games  or  in  hunt- 
ing, necessarily  involves  the  idea  of  a  contest 
or  trial  of  skill  wherein  there  is  a  certain 
element  of  chance.  The  rapid  destruction  of 
game,  consequent  upon  the  easy  mastery  of 
nature  by  man,  led  in  quite  early  times  to  the 
establishment  of  game  preserves  and  the  en- 
actment of  laws  for  the  preservation  of  game. 
The  killing  of  game  developed  into  a  pastime, 
and  rules  regulating  its  enjoyment  readily 
grew  out  of  this  method  of  recreation.  In 
other  words  it  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  sport 
or  game  wherein  the  hunted  had  rights  or 
privileges  which  had  to  be  respected  the  same 
124 


BLOODLESS  SPORT 

as  those  of  a  contestant  in  any  other  game; 
the  huntsman  must  exercise  his  ingenuity  and 
sometimes  his  daring  and  endurance  against 
the  cunning  and  desperation  of  the  wild 
beast.  It  is  obvious  from  the  foregoing  ex- 
planation that  no  sportsman  countenances 
killing,  except  for  a  purpose,  and  prefers  to 
give  the  game  a  chance  to  exercise  its  clever- 
ness and  adroitness  in  making  good  its  escape; 
if  it  fails,  it  has  been  outwitted.  The  obser- 
vance of  game  laws  for  the  preservation  of 
game  find  no  stronger  advocates  anywhere 
than  among  sportsmen,  and  it  is  to  their  in- 
terest to  prevent  the  extermination  of  wild 
life,  because  if  that  should  take  place  their 
pastime  would  be  gone. 

There  are  a  number  of  enlightened  people, 
however,  who  distinctly  disapprove  of  a 
sportsman's  favorite  amusement  and  regard 
hunting  and  killing  game  for  recreation  as 
altogether  wrong.  An  examination  into  this 

state  of  feeling  with  a  view  of  ascertaining 
125 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

whether  it  is  based  upon  a  clearly  defined 
reason,  or  is  merely  a  capricious  sentiment, 
may  be  instructive.  All  animal  life  in  one  way 
or  another  exists  or  is  sacrificed  for  the  bene- 
fit of  humanity.  No  one  can  reasonably 
combat  this  assertion.  By  the  very  instinct 
of  his  being,  man  assumes  to  have  an  unques- 
tioned right  to  subject  the  lower  order  of 
created  life  to  his  use.  This  assertion  of  his 
authority  dates  from  the  beginning  when  the 
fiat  was  delivered — "Let  him  have  dominion 
over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl 
of  the  air,  and  over  every  living  thing  that 
moveth  upon  the  face  of  the  earth!"  In 
what  way  shall  this  authority  be  exercised? 
Human  necessity  or  convenience  alone  has 
determined  that  question  without  the  brute 
creation  being  considered.  The  beast  that  is 
reduced  to  servitude,  and  compelled  to  work 
the  balance  of  his  existence,  finds  no  advocate 
for  his  emancipation;  no  protest  is  made 

against  the  wholesale  slaughter  of  cattle  to 

126 


BLOODLESS  SPORT 

supply  the  m'eat  market.  But  when  the 
sportsman  goes  forth  to  exercise  his  skill, 
allowing  the  hunted  prey  a  chance  for  its  life 
and  freedom,  the  sentimentalist,  who  is  gen- 
erally someone  who  never  took  pleasure  in 
that  form  of  amusement,  throws  up  his  hands 
and  exclaims,  "How  brutal !"  It  is  easy  to 
discriminate  against  a  practice  in  which  one 
does  not  participate.  Self-denial,  when  you 
deny  yourself  nothing,  is  an  easy  and  con- 
venient morality.  The  brute  creation  is  sac- 
rificed for  man's  enjoyment,  and  it  is  useless 
to  offer  capricious  objections  to  a  form  of 
sacrifice  which  pleases  another  and  which 
does  not  happen  to  appeal  to  one's  own  idea 
of  pleasure. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  inconsistency  dis- 
played by  many  who  deprecate  hunting  with 
a  rifle  or  shotgun,  as  the  case  may  be.  Cruelty 
to  animals  seems  to  include  birds  and  quad- 
rupeds, but  not  fish.  I  have  heard  people 
who  are  fond  of  angling  expatiate  upon  the 
127 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

wickedness  of  destroying  animal  life;  yet  they 
saw  no  harm  in  catching  fish  with  a  light  rod 
and  play  their  quarry  for  a  long  time. 

The  huntsman  endeavors  to  kill  his  game 
as  soon  as  possible;  he  does  not  prolong  its 
agony  for  his  amusement.  No  protests  are 
made  against  fishing  as  a  sport  so  far  as  I 
have  observed.  The  reason  for  this  is  not 
hard  to  discover.  The  fish  is  a  cold-blooded 
creature  to  whom  the  heart  does  not  seem  to 
go  out  in  sympathy  to  any  extent;  the  slimy 
scales  do  not  invite  the  contact  of  the  fingers 
like  the  warm  fur  of  a  deer  or  the  soft  down 
of  a  duck;  there  is  nothing  in  its  "yellow 
orbs"  to  excite  sentimental  regard;  it  is  not 
an  object  one  would  pet  or  fondle  like  a 
spotted  fawn;  wanting  in  qualities  which 
appeal  to  the  fancy,  no  plea  is  set  up  in  its 
behalf.  In  further  evidence  of  the  incon- 
sistency in  question  I  have  heard  ladies  almost 
melt  with  emotion  while  deprecating  the  de- 
struction of  animal  life  by  the  sportsman,  who 
128 


BLOODLESS  SPORT 

yet  seem  little  affected  by  the  recital  of  the 
lingering  death  agony  of  the  poor  creatures 
caught  in  traps  to  furnish  the  furs  which 
minister  to  female  vanity. 

The  universal  custom  of  sacrificing  animal 
life  in  some  form  or  another  makes  it  impos- 
sible for  one  to  condemn  the  sportsman's 
method  of  destroying  it  without  the  charge 
of  inconsistency.  Once  concede  that  the  right 
to  take  the  life  of  dumb  creatures  exists,  and 
the  individual  must  decide  in  what  way  that 
right  shall  be  exercised,  with  the  limitations 
which  civilization  places  upon  the  exercise  of 
all  natural  rights. 


129 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

WE  read  of  the  big  game  which  once 
frequented  the  Western  part  of  the 
United  States  in  such  large  numbers;  yet  in 
traveling  over  that  section  in  a  Pullman  it 
is  surprising  that  we  seldom  see  any  evidence 
of  it.  Leaving  the  line  of  the  railway  and 
settlement,  the  monotony  of  the  sterile  plain 
covered  with  sagebrush  is  unrelieved  by  signs 
of  animal  life,  except  horses  and  cattle  and 
occasionally  herds  of  sheep.  The  old  life 
has  passed  and  the  new  has  hardly  developed 
sufficiently  to  supply  its  place. 

Here  and  there  may  be  found  spots  which 
excite  the  ardor  of  sportsmen,  but  they  are 
generally  inaccessible  except  through  the 
agency  of  a  competent  guide.  The  great 
herds  of  buffalo  which  once  swept  over  the 
plains  in  such  vast  numbers  as  to  endanger 
130 


M  - 

S  '3 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

the  life  of  the  pioneer,  have  disappeared 
entirely;  the  elk  have  almost  vanished  and 
their  annual  rr  '^rations  have  ceased  to  be  a 
terror  to  the  i.  ichman,  who  fenced  in  his 
hay  to  protect  it  from  the  famished  herds. 
Even  the  smaller  game  has  greatly  dimin- 
ished. 

There  are  yet  some  localities  where 
primeval  conditions  still  continue  to  a  great 
extent;  of  these  the  most  noted  is  the  country 
south  of  the  Yellowstone  National  Park. 
To  the  providential  care  of  the  National 
Government,  in  laying  out  this  great  pre- 
s'erve,  is  due  the  preservation  of  the  principal 
sport  which  now  remains.  Large  bands  of 
elk  frequent  this  preserve  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  year,  until  the  heavy  snows  drive 
them  down  from  the  higher  elevations  to 
obtain  pasturage.  Other  game  besides  elk 
may  be  hunted  in  the  country  adjacent  to  the 
park,  such  as  sheep,  antelope  and  blacktail 
deer,  besides  smaller  :  nimals.  With  a  pack 
131 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

of  well  trained  dogs  it  is  also  possible  to  hunt 
with  success  cougars,  bobcats,  lynx  and  some- 
times bear.  Elk  and  deer  do>  not,  as  a  rule, 
frequent  the  same  locality  to  any  extent.  If 
one  desires  to  hunt  sheep  and  goats  a  still 
different  plan  of  operation  must  be  adopted, 
while  antelope  inhabit  a  country  where  neither 
elk,  deer,  sheep,  nor  goats  are  likely  to  be 
found,  except  by  merest  accident. 

The  time  when  a  sportsman  could  pitch 
his  tent  most  anywhere  and  expect  the  wild 
animal  life  of  forest  and  plain  to  come  to 
him  as  they  came  to  Adam  when  he  first 
named  them,  has  long  since  vanished.  To 
hunt  with  success  one  must  be  thoroughly 
versed  in  woodcraft,  be  possessed  of  a  good 
knowledge  of  the  habits  of  game  and  the 
localities  where  they  are  to  be  found  at  dif- 
ferent seasons  of  the  year,  have  a  quick  eye  to 
pick  out  a  desirable  head,  and  must  be  a  rea- 
sonably fair  judge  of  distance,  to  gauge  the 
proper  elevation  of  a  rifle.  The  happy  com- 
132 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

bination  of  these  qualities  make  the  skilled 
hunter;  marksmanship,  provided  it  be  fair, 
is  the  least  important  of  all  his  qualifications. 
There  are  a  great  many  men  who*  are  good 
shots  at  a  stationary  target  who  are  bad  shots 
at  game;  there  are  men  who  are  good  shots 
at  game,  who  are  by  no1  means  experts  in 
shooting  at  a  mark.  This  statement  may 
seem  paradoxical  but  readily  admits  of  ex- 
planation. The  marksman  has  his  range 
given  him,  he  takes  his  time,  and  is  not  be- 
trayed into  sudden  action.  Change  these 
conditions  and  he  is  out  of  his  element.  If 
his  eye  is  not  trained  to  judge  distance  in 
timber  or  on  the  plain,  he  can  'easily  mis- 
gauge  it,  and  shooting  at  a  moving  object 
he  cannot  take  his  time;  the  absence  of  any 
spot  on  the  animal  near  the  point  he  is  aim- 
ing at  is  another  disadvantage  to  the  man  of 
the  target.  The  practiced  hunter  knows  his 
distance;  his  keen  eye  readily  distinguishes 
his  quarry,  although  it  may  blend  with  the 
133 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

landscape,  so  that  the  unpracticed'  eye  might 
easily  overlook  it;  he  is  accustomed  to  take 
a  quick  sight  and  shoot,  making  proper  allow- 
ances for  the  moving  object;  if  a  rapid 
advance  is  possible  and  necessary  to  cut  off 
the  game  before  it  can  pass  a  given  point 
for  which  it  is  heading,  the  hunter  chooses 
his  course,  as  if  by  intuition,  and  often  has 
a  chance  to  get  several  more  shots  where 
another  would  fail  of  his  opportunity.  The 
skill  of  a  hunter  generally  brings  him  within 
such  proximity  of  game  as  to  relieve  him  of 
the  necessity  of  making  an  extra  difficult  shot. 
It  is  surprising  how  seldom  the  huntsman  dis- 
charges his  rifle  compared  to  one  who  prac- 
tices at  a  target.  The  man  who  is  fond  of 
target  practice  will  probably  use  up  as  many 
rounds  of  ammunition  in  one  afternoon  shoot- 
ing at  a  mark  as  the  average  huntsman  will 
consume  in  an  entire  year. 

A  sportsman  who  is  a  fair  shot,  and  who 
goes  to  a  locality  where  game  is  fairly  plenti- 
134 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

ful,  has  every  reason  in  the  world  to  expect 
success,  provided  he  is  accompanied  by  a  real 
hunter,  such  an  one  as  I  have  above  described. 
It  is  very  important  to  employ  a  competent 
guide  if  one  expects  a  successful  hunt.  When 
I  speak  of  a  competent  guide  I  mean  a  man 
who  is  a  good  hunter  and  also  capable  of 
managing  a  hunting  outfit. 

Guides  may  be  divided  into  three  classes: 

1 I )  Ordinary  frauds  who  are  watching 
an  opportunity  to  "work"  some  udude,"  by 
which  name  sportsmen  are  sometimes  desig- 
nated in  the  slang  of  the  country. 

(2)  Backwoodsmen  who  are  good  hun- 
ters and  tireless  and  will  supply  a  sportsman 
with  the  best  they  know  how  to  provide,  but 
being  ignorant  of  the  ordinary  comforts  of 
civilized  life,  treat  their  sportsmen  with  the 
same  cruel  neglect  to  which  they  have  accus- 
tomed themselves. 

"(3)     The  man  who  makes  a  regular  busi- 
ness of  acting  as  a  guide,   who  is  a  good 
135 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

hunter  and  who  also  knows  how  to  provide 
a  first-class  outfit. 

Game  has  greatly  decreased  before  the 
advance  of  civilization  and  the  wanton 
slaughter  which  took  no  thought  of  the 
future;  the  wild  life  which  survives  owes  its 
preservation  to  the  almost  inaccessible  char- 
acter of  the  country  in  which  it  has  taken 
refuge,  and  to  its  own  cunning,  which  of 
necessity  has  become  very  acute. 

To  know  the  habitat  of  game  and  outwit 
its  wariness  requires  the  skill  of  the  practiced 
hunter. 

We  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  rough- 
ing it.  That  phrase  as  formerly  understood 
must  be  greatly  qualified  if  the  modern 
sportsman  patronizes  an  up-to-date  outfit. 

Going  to  a  wild  and  rather  inaccessible 
country  has  about  it  a  certain  charm  of 
novelty,  and  part  of  that  charm  grows  out  of 
the  idea  of  roughing  it.  Some  people  have  a 
tendency  to  greatly  exaggerate  the  ordeals 
136 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

through  which  they  pass  in  order  that  they 
may  enhance  the  interest  of  their  experience. 
This  goes  with  the  weakness  for  overstating 
the  distance  and  increasing  the  apparent 
difficulty  of  the  shots  which  they  make  in 
securing  their  trophies,  in  which  error  they 
are  too  frequently  sustained  by  the  somewhat 
elastic  conscience  of  the  guide.  This  is  an 
age  of  progress,  and  that  phrase  applies  to 
methods  of  enjoying  sport  quite  as  well  as 
it  does  to  anything  else.  Having  good  sport 
with  comfort  in  camp  life  is  simply  a  question 
of  dollars  and  cents.  The  average  person 
does  not  understand  the  present  conditions 
of  sporting  life  in  a  wild  country. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  in  traveling 
in  rough  sections  of  the  West,  where  big 
game  still  abounds,  although  in  much  smaller 
numbers  than  formerly,  everything  has  to<  be 
carried  on  pack  horses.  What  you  are  to 
take  is  limited  simply  by  the  supply  of  pack 
horses  you  are  to  engage.  In  an  up-to-date 
i37 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

outfit  the  open  camp-fire,  such  a  picturesque 
feature  in  an  illustration,  has  been  supplanted 
by  a  plain  sheet-iron  stove  which  is  placed  in 
the  tent,  with  a  few  feet  of  pipe  attached  to 
carry  off  the  smoke.  If  one  wants  the  open 
fire  it  of  course  can  be  easily  supplied,  and 
at  first  a  good  many  sportsmen  desire  it  on 
account  of  the  romance  and  novelty  of  the 
experience,  but  the  same  pampered  tastes, 
which  have  forced  man  from  a  savage  life 
to  adopt  the  comforts  which  civilization 
supplies,  will  invariably  lead  to  the  open 
camp-fire  being  abandoned  for  the  common- 
place sheet-iron  stove — very  unromantic  but 
thoroughly  practical  and  useful.  The  open 
camp-fire,  with  the  smoke  blowing  in  your 
eyes  from  every  direction,  which  gives  the 
sensation  of  being  scorched  on  one  side  and 
frozen  on  the  other,  does  not  appeal  to  the 
modern  sportsman  who  disassociates  sport 
from  martyrdom. 

Folding  tables  and  chairs  can  be  "packed" 
138 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

quite  easily,  and  it  is  much  pleasanter  to  sit 
in  a  chair  and  eat  off  of  a  table  than  to  sit 
on  a  log  trying  to  make  a  table  of  your  knees, 
and  occasionally  converting  your  lap  into  a 
plate  for  your  spilled  victuals.  A  portable 
rubber  bathtub,  if  one  objects  to  jumping 
into  cold  water,  satisfies  the  desire  for 
cleanliness.  With  a  fire  in  the  stove  one  can 
take  a  bath  as*easily  and  comfortably  in  camp 
as  at  home.  For  thorough  cleansing  it  is 
best  for  one  to  take  a  bath  in  a  tent  in  warm 
water,  but  I  strongly  recommend  to  those 
who  can  stand  it  a  plunge  in  cold  water  or 
being  soused  with  a  bucket  or  two  every 
morning  before  dressing  for  the  day.  This 
stimulates  the  body  and  gets  the  system  in 
fine  condition. 

For  those  who  find  it  uncomfortable  to 
sleep  on  the  hard  surface  of  the  ground  I 
would  recommend  a  pneumatic  mattress.  An 
ample  supply  of  canned  stuff  insures  against 
the  chance  of  bad  cooking,  because  it  requires 
139 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

little  or  no  skill  to  prepare  canned  provisions, 
if  the  other  food  in  camp  is  not  particularly 
appetizing. 

This  article  is  not  intended  for  the  ex- 
perienced hunter  who  has  had  plenty  of 
experience  of  Western  hunting;  nor  is  it 
intended  for  the  man  who  has  his  heart  set 
upon  roughing  it  in  the  sense  that  he  desires 
to  see  how  much  he  can  go  through  and 
survive.  A  great  deal  of  the  advice  given 
to  people  has  been  in  the  opposite  direction, 
namely,  to  cut  out  as  much  as  possible  from 
their  hunting  outfit.  I  claim  that  the  average 
person  who  desires  sport  with  as  little  hard- 
ship as  possible,  except  what  is  unavoidable, 
should  be  very  careful  about  reducing  his 
outfit  too  much.  Most  sportsmen  are  ac- 
customed to  the  ordinary  comforts  and  con- 
veniences of  life.  It  is  perfect  folly  for 
such  people  to  attempt  in  a  short  time  to 
harden  themselves  to  the  frontier  life  so 
they  may  endure  its  hardships  with  the 
140 


VIEW    FROM     MT.    LEIDY. 


WESTERN  CAMP  LIFE 

same  indifference  as  the  hunter  or  trapper 
who  lives  that  way  all  the  time.  I  have  run 
across  sportsmen  who  have  had  their  hunting 
trips  spoiled  by  attempting  to  rough  it  too 
much.  If  you  are  accustomed  to1  living  well 
and  in  comfort,  it  would  be  wise  to  recognize 
the  fact  that  you  are  a  "tenderfoot"  and  act 
accordingly.  For  the  average  sportsman  the 
object  of  a  hunting  trip  in  the  West  is  to 
obtain  diversion  and  acquire  health.  All  the 
roughing  it  one  requires  is  the  vigorous  exer- 
cise, the  fresh  air,  with  an  occasional  dip  in 
ice  cold  water,  which  is  conducive  to*  health; 
the  rest  of  the  hardship  it  is  well  to  leave  out 
as  far  as  possible. 

My  experience  has  led  me  to  add  to  a 
hunting  outfit,  the  oftener  I  go  out,  rather 
than  depleting  it.  The  first  time  I  really  saw 
an  up-to-date  outfit  was  in  1902,  when  I 
engaged  as  my  guide  Edward  Sheffield,  of 
Idaho1.  I  joked  him  about  all  the  things  he 
was  taking  along  and  called  him  a  "tender- 
141 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

foot."  He  replied  that  "he  had  had  all  the 
roughing  it  he  wanted  in  his  time,  and  those 
who  really  knew  what  it  was  generally  pre- 
ferred a  camp  as  comfortable  as  possible." 
I  experienced  during  that  trip  and  a  subse- 
quent one  I  took  next  fall  such  comfort, 
combined  with  good  sport,  as  I  never  had 
before. 

I  would  advise  taking  an  emergency 
medical  case  supplied  with  all  the  ordinary 
remedies.  I  have  known  the  time  when  such 
a  thing  has  proved  extremely  useful,  and  I 
have  also  known  of  sportsmen  who  have  had 
their  outing  ruined  through  lack  of  some 
simple  remedy. 


142 


AN    ELK    HUNT    IN    WYOMING 

WHEN  I  wrote  to  my  old  guide  Edward 
Sheffield,  I  was  somewhat  apprehen- 
sive about  the  outlook  for  sport,  because  I 
had  heard  that  the  best  part  of  the  Jackson 
Hole  Country  had  been  included  in  the 
reserve  set  apart  by  the  State  of  Wyoming, 
where  sport  with  big  game  had  been  entirely 
interdicted. 

I  was  advised,  however,  that  this  was  not 
the  fact,  and  pinning  my  faith  to  the  good 
judgment  of  the  guide,  I  made  arrangements 
for  a  fall  hunt.  Before  reaching  the  terminal 
of  the  railroad  journey  I  chanced  to  meet 
some  sportsmen  who  discussed  the  sport  and 
commented  on  the  conditions  existing  in 
Jackson's  Hole.  The  criticisms  were  by  no 
means  favorable,  and  various  instances  were 
cited  of  parties  who  had  been  disappointed 
143 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

in  their  expectations.  My  subsequent  ex- 
perience only  served  to  convince  me  how 
dependent  a  sportsman  has  become  upon  the 
services  of  a  good  guide. 

The  trip  from  St.  Anthony  to  Jackson  was 
without  incident  worth  relating,  except  at 
the  start.  The  pack  horses,  which,  during 
their  stay  in  town,  had  fared  handsomely  on 
oats  and  hay  and  been  well  sheltered,  did  not 
look  forward  to  a  trip  back  into  the  bleak 
and  sterile  mountains  with  the  same  pleasure 
that  I  did;  their  refractory  souls  yearned  for 
the  comfortable  quarters  they  were  just  leav- 
ing with  the  same  tenacity  that  the  children 
of  Israel  in  the  wilderness  "longed  for  the 
fleshpots  of  Egypt,"  but  here  the  compari- 
son ends,  for  they  had  not  a  guide  who  was 
meek  and  gentle  like  Moses. 

About  a  mile  from  St.  Anthony  the  whole 

bunch  turned  off  on  a  side  road  and  went 

back  to  their  former  quarters.     After  some 

delay  they  were  finally  got  in  line  again,  and 

144 


GUIDE    EDWARD    SHEFFIELD    AND    TWO    ELK    HEADS. 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

with  the  aid  of  a  couple  of  Mormons,  who, 
for  a  consideration,  agreed  to  help  them 
for  several  miles,  we  got  the  pack  train 
properly  started,  and  after  that  had  no 
further  trouble  with  them. 

The  journey  was  a  fairly  long  one,  but  it 
became  more  interesting  as  we  drew  away 
from  civilization  and  got  closer  to  the  place 
where  we  intended  to  make  permanent  camp. 
After  the  first  day  we  passed  the  wide 
monotonous  stretch  of  sage  brush  flats  which 
lies  between  St.  Anthony  and  Victor;  after 
that  the  landscape  grew  more  mountainous 
and  wooded.  The  country  became  very  pic- 
turesque as  we  proceeded;  every  mountain 
presented  a  view  which  was  a  panorama; 
every  opening  in  the  timber  seemed  a  natural 
frame  for  an  entrancing  picture;  the  atmos- 
phere so  clear  and  bracing  gave  fine  definition 
to  objects  in  view;  the  winding  river  rushed 
fretting  and  foaming  between  the  rocks  in 
the  valley  below;  large  clumps  of  spruces 
i45 


INTER-OCEAN     HUNTING    TALES 

clustered  upon  the  mountain  sides,  and  the 
rough  crags  were  powdered  with  snow  and 
sometimes  glistening  with  rills  which  coursed 
down  their  rugged  surfaces.  After  traveling 
along  the  Gros  Ventre  River  for  a  consider- 
able distance  we  at  last  came  in  view  of  Mt. 
Leidy,  superbly  situated  between  two  rows 
of  mountains  on  either  side  of  a  pleasant 
valley,  at  the  head  of  which  that  peak 
stands.  The  ground  was  covered  with  a  few 
inches  of  snow — enough  to  make  good  hunt- 
ing. We  made  an  early  camp  and  had  plenty 
of  time  to  get  everything  arranged  before  it 
became  dark.  The  location  was  ideal ;  plenty 
of  timber  nearby;  a  fine  stream  of  clear,  cold 
water,  and  good  grazing  for  the  horses.  It 
was  quite  important  to  have*  a  good  range 
for  the  stock,  because  there  were  eleven  pack 
horses  and  three  riding  horses — fourteen  in 
all.  To  take  care  of  these  required  the  ser- 
vices of  a  horse  wrangler.  I  had  three  men, 
my  regular  guide,  Edward  Sheffield;  Charles 
146 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

Herdick,  a  Wyoming  guide,  and  Marcus  Imo, 
who  cooked  and  turned  his  hand  to  anything 
else  that  had  to  be  attended  to. 

The  day  being  young  when  we  arrived, 
I  employed  it  in  making  a  short  hunting 
scout.  Charles  Herdick  went  with  me,  and 
I  soon  discovered  how  much  my  wind  had 
deteriorated  since  I  had  last  been  out,  for 
in  the  meantime  I  had  lived  a  life  of  com- 
parative ease.  The  general  elevation  in  this 
section  ranges  from  7,000  to  10,000  feet, 
and  it  takes  a  few  days  to  accustom  your 
lungs  to  the  rarified  atmosphere.  When  one 
is  not  taking  any  vigorous  exercise  the  climate 
feels  exhilarating  and  inspires  one  with  the 
belief  that  he  is  able  to  perform  any  kind 
of  feat;  a  few  minutes  of  real  strenuous 
exercise  and  this  delusion  is  destroyed.  I 
soon  discovered  that  Herdick  was  a  good 
hand  at  mountain  climbing,  being  wonder- 
fully supple  and  possessed  of  the  best  pair 
of  lungs  of  anyone  I  ever  knew. 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

We  finally  caught  sight  of  a  small  bunch 
of  elk  at  a  considerable  distance.  As  they 
were  moving  over  a  crest  of  a  hill  it  became 
necessary  to  travel  with  speed  to  get  near 
enough  for  a  shot,  if  by  chance  there  should 
be  a  good  head  in  the  bunch.  The  elk  had 
not  seen  us,  but  were  moving  and  might  get 
out  of  range.  Completely  exhausted  I  finally 
gained  the  summit  of  a  hill  overlooking 
the  herd,  which  had  halted.  An  old  bull 
stood  in  the  quaking  aspens,  not  over  sixty 
yards  away.  A  glance  at  the  head,  and  I 
saw  that  I  had  had  my  pains  for  nothing.  I 
watched  the  animals  for  a  few  moments,  and 
they  seemed  to  me  like  old  acquaintances,  for 
it  had  been  three  years  since  I  last  hunted 
this  kind  of  game.  I  do  not  believe  they 
were  as  pleased  to  see  me  as  I  was  to  see 
them.  They  soon  started  to  run  directly  from 
us  in  the  direction  of  camp,  which  was  quite 
near.  My  guide,  Edward  Sheffield,  told  me 
afterward  that  they  came  very  near,  and  he 
148 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

was  afraid  they  would  run  through  camp. 
He  gravely  warned  me  against  the  danger 
of  driving  a  large  bunch  of  "Uncle  Sam's 
cattle"  in  that  direction. 

It  was  a  pleasure  after  this  little  excite- 
ment to  drop  into  a  comfortable  camp  and 
find  everything  nicely  arranged  and  a  good 
meal  provided.  My  quarters  were  supplied 
with  every  convenience  that  could  be  ex- 
pected by  one  who  travels  with  a  pack  outfit. 
It  may,  perhaps,  interest  those  who  have  had 
no  practical  experience  in  Western  hunting 
to  know  what  can  be  furnished.  We  had 
folding  chairs,  a  folding  table,  two  tents,  and 
in  each  a  portable  sheet-iron  stove  with  a 
couple  of  lengths  of  pipe  to  take  off  the 
smoke.  I  had  a  pneumatic  mattress  to  save 
my  tired  flesh  from  the  hard  ground,  and 
whatever  else  was  required  which  horses 
could  pack  in.  When  I  was  tired  of  hunting 
I  could  rest  a  day  or  so  and  read  novels  in 
a  comfortable  tent,  no  matter  how  cold  the 
149 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

weather.  This  does  not  seem  like  roughing 
it.  The  frontiersman  of  former  days  would 
have  thought  such  comfort  with  a  hunting 
outfit  impossible.  Modern  progress,  how- 
ever, has  caused  most  of  the  inconveniences 
of  camp  life  to  disappear  as  if  by  magic. 
Would  that  its  magic  influence  could  restock 
the  wilderness  with  the  great  herds  of  wild 
animals  that  have  vanished. 

The  following  day  I  went  out  with  the 
guide  to  try  my  luck.  We  had  not  traveled 
more  than  two  miles  before  discovering  a 
small  herd  of  elk.  We  circled  around  them 
sufficiently  to  size  them  up,  but  could  find  no 
heads  worth  picking  out.  Our  course  was 
then  changed,  and  we  hunted  toward  a  high 
mountain  north  of  Mt.  Leidy.  From  this 
point  we  obtained  a  fine  view  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  which  I  carefully  swept 
with  my  Seitz  glasses  in  quest  of  game.  Far 
off  on  a  distant  ridge  we  finally  saw  some 
elk  slowly  moving  out  of  the  timber  into  the 
150 


VALLEY    OF   GROS    VENTRE. 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

open.  Their  brown  shapes  showed  very 
distinctly  against  the  snow-covered  hills,  but, 
although  there  was  a  considerable  number  in 
view,  no  good  antlers  were  visible.  My 
strong  glasses  proved  of  very  great  service 
to  me.  With  them  I  could  ascertain  plainly 
what  otherwise  I  would  have  had  to  guess 
at,  and  they  saved  me  many  a  long  excursion 
over  rough  country  to  determine  the  value 
of  a  set  of  antlers.  My  guide  was  quite  as 
anxious  as  myself  that  I  should  not  have  any 
trophies  unworthy  of  a  sportsman's  ambition. 
The  law  allows  one  only  two  heads,  and  it 
is  necessary  to  take  great  pains  to  avoid 
making  mistakes.  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  would  go  back  'empty-handed  rather  than 
pack  out  antlers  which  would  reflect  discredit 
upon  my  skill.  The  guide  was  particularly 
anxious  that  I  should  obtain  specimens  which 
would  do  no  injury  to  his  reputation.  I 
think  I  must  have  passed  unfavorable  judg- 
ment upon  twenty-five  or  thirty  heads — for 
151 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

which  the  guide  was  mainly  responsible — 
before  I  finally  secured  my  trophies.  Any 
number  of  bulls  presented  themselves,  some 
of  them  quite  easy  marks,  only  to  be  snubbed 
and  turned  down.  Paris,  in  passing  judg- 
ment upon  the  goddesses  to  determine  which 
was  the  most  beautiful,  could  not  have  been 
more  critical  or  discriminating  than  the  guide. 
I  doubt  if  the  unsuccessful  rivals  of  the  bulls 
I  finally  chose  as  worthy  specimens  were 
seriously  disappointed. 

To  illustrate  the  ease  with  which  I  could 
have  secured  my  legal  allowance  of  two  bulls, 
to  say  nothing  of  cows,  I  will  cite  a  few  in- 
stances of  the  opportunities  I  had.  On  one 
occasion  I  was  going  through  the  timber 
where  I  heard  a  number  of  elk.  The  guide 
called  my  attention  to  a  bull  lying  on  the 
ground  not  sixty  yards  away,  partly  con- 
cealed by  the  spruce  brush.  He  was  facing 
directly  toward  us,  his  front  feet  folded 
under  his  body  and  his  nose  close  to  the 
152 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

ground.  We  stood  quite  still  and  surveyed 
him  carefully,  sizing  up  the  head,  which  had 
twelve  points,  but  not  large  nor  heavy  at  the 
base.  The  glasses  were  brought  into  service 
to  make  a  more  critical  examination.  A 
couple  of  minutes  we  stood  discussing  him, 
when  finally  he  gave  a  brief  snort,  which 
sounded  like  an  expression  of  disgust  at  our 
impertinence,  and  then  jumped  up  and  loped 
out  of  sight. 

Shortly  afterward  we  managed  to  approach 
close  to  a  very  large  herd  of  elk,  mostly 
hidden  in  the  timber.  From  our  concealment 
we  could  see  a  number  of  the  animals  not 
over  thirty  or  forty  yards  away.  About  150 
yards  off  were  a  couple  of  young  bulls  exer- 
cising their  skill  by  fencing  with  their  antlers, 
evidently  in  sport.  We  could  hear  the  fre- 
quent clash  of  the  horns  and  often  got  a  good 
view  of  the  contestants.  We  waited  in  this 
spot  over  an  hour,  until  despairing  of  seeing 
anything  worth  shooting  at  before  it  grew 
153 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

too  dark,  we  suddenly  rose  up  in  plain  view. 
The  peaceful  scene  was  soon  converted  into 
one  of  great  confusion.  For  a  moment  the 
elk  stared  at  us  with  their  beautiful  large 
brown  eyes  in  astonishment,  then  a  general 
panic  communicated  itself  to  the  herd,  and 
every  animal  in  sight  began  moving  off.  Each 
clump  of  vegetation  that  could  conceal  a 
form  seemed  suddenly  animated  by  a  creature 
breaking  from  its  hiding  place,  fleeing  for 
safety ;  the  cows  and  calves  gave  vent  to  their 
peculiar  bleat  of  alarm,  while  the  bulls 
snorted  and  rattled  their  antlers  against  the 
trees  in  their  haste.  For  some  hundred  yards 
in  the  timber,  and  well  up  on  the  mountain 
side,  the  scene  became  particularly  animated. 
I  hurried  to  an  opening  in  the  timber,  where 
I  could  get  a  good  view  of  the  retreating 
herd,  which  had  drawn  together  into  quite  a 
solid  moving  mass.  The  number  of  elk 
greatly  exceeded  my  expectations.  Nine- 
tenths  of  the  herd  had  been  as  carefully  con- 
154 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

cealed  from  us  as  we  had  been  from  them. 
There  must  have  been  at  a  conservative 
estimate  not  less  than  400  in  the  herd,  and 
possibly  500.  A  sportsman  could  only  ad- 
mire this  striking  and  beautiful  spectacle 
because  there  was  no  head  worth  securing. 
A  tooth  hunter  or  a  butcher,  with  a  high- 
power  repeating  rifle,  could  have  repeated 
one  of  those  scenes  which  sickens  every  lover 
of  sport. 

At  another  time  I  came  upon  a  band  of 
elk  quite  as  numerous,  and,  although  there 
were  a  couple  of  good  heads  in  view,  yet  the 
number  of  cow  elk  was  so  great  that  it  was 
practically  impossible  to  get  a  good  shot. 
The  entire  mass  fled  straight  up  the  side  of 
a  steep  mountain  covered  with  quaking  aspen 
and  spruce.  For  some  time  we  could  see 
them  crowding  one  another  in  dense  masses 
in  their  ascent,  but  the  only  shot  attempted 
was  with  the  camera,  and  without  success. 

One  more  instance,  which  will  not  only  aid 
iSS 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

in  proving  the  ease  of  securing  an  indifferent 
specimen,  but  goes  to  show  that  when  game 
is  too  plentiful  it  is  an  actual  handicap  to 
the  sportsman.  I  saw  a  fine  head  across  a 
gulch  at  a  considerable  distance.  I  fired  and 
missed  it  and  the  animal  escaped  beyond 
range.  I  crossed  the  gulch  to  examine  the 
spot  where  the  bull  had  stood  and  followed 
his  tracks  to  see  if  he  had  been  wounded,  and 
if  so,  how  badly.  Although  the  ground  was 
covered  with  two  feet  of  snow,  yet  I  could 
discover  no  signs  of  blood.  While  discussing 
the  matter  with  the  guide  we  became  con- 
scious that  we  were  not  unperceived,  for  a 
great  number  of  elk  began  to  move  among 
the  trees,  having  evidently  "spotted"  us.  We 
made  at  once  for  concealment  and  ran  as  fast 
as  we  could  through  the  deep  snow  to  an 
open  place  toward  which  the  herd  was  head- 
ing. 

Carefully    hidden    from    view   we    saw   a 
great  brown  mass  thunder  past,  and  before 
156 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

it  had  disappeared  from  sight  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  precious  set  of  antlers  belong- 
ing to  the  bull  I  shot  at  carried  in  triumph 
out  of  sight.  They  appeared  but  for  a 
moment  in  the  narrow  opening,  in  which  the 
intended  victim  was  well  protected  by  cows, 
which  formed  a  perfect  wall  of  flesh  which 
no  bullet  could  pierce  and  speed  on  to  its 
mark.  We  made  another  run  under  conceal- 
ment in  the  hope  of  being  able  to*  come  upon 
the  herd  again  in  case  it  should  halt,  which 
it  did.  In  an  open  space  on  the  further  side 
of  the  mountain  we  confronted  the  elk  at 
close  quarters.  The  rapid  traveling  in  the 
deep  snow  over  rough  country  left  me  very 
much  exhausted.  The  first  object  that 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  guide  and  my- 
self was  a  large  bull  of  twelve  points  at  very 
close  range.  I  thought  in  the  hurry  of  the 
moment,  my  vision  perhaps  being  blurred  by 
nervous  strain  and  exhaustion,  that  it  was  the 
same  magnificent  specimen  I  had  shot  at  be- 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

fore  and  was  trying  to  secure,  and  the 
animal's  position — turned  quartering  toward 
me — aided  the  deception.  I  soon  discovered 
the  mistake,  however,  my  attention  being 
called  by  the  guide  to  another  bull  which 
proved  to  be  the  one  I  so  earnestly  desired. 
I  brought  my  rifle  in  position  to  draw  a  bead 
on  a  vital  spot,  but  the  bull  was  immediately 
blanketed  by  several  cows  running  between. 
If  I  could  have  had  a  clear  range  the  shot 
would  have  been  about  the  easiest  I  ever  had, 
but  the  faithful  cows  with  their  calves 
swarmed  around  their  lord,  and  I  beheld  with 
disappointment  as  fine  a  pair  of  antlers  as 
I  ever  saw  borne  safely  out  of  sight.  The 
old  bull  must  have  evidently  believed  that 
"there  is  safety  in  numbers." 

There  is  another  disadvantage  in  encoun- 
tering a  great  quantity  of  game  when  attempt- 
ing to  secure  a  good  trophy.  Each  animal, 
however  poor  a  head  it  may  possess,  has 
generally  a  good  pair  of  eyes,  a  keen  scent 
158 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

and  excellent  hearing.  Each  addition  to  a 
herd  is  another  sentinel,  always  on  duty  and 
ready  at  any  moment  to  sound  the  alarm. 
On  a  previous  hunting  trip,  when  the  elk 
were  not  nearly  so  plentiful,  I  got  the  heads 
I  wanted  in  less  time.  I  cannot  place  the 
blame  for  the  trouble  I  had  in  securing  my 
heads  on  the  cows  entirely. 

A  couple  of  days  before  the  scarlet  letter 
day  of  my  hunt  I  fired  at  a  fine  bull  in  a  gulch 
quite  a  distance  off.  He  immediately  quick- 
ened his  pace  and  was  soon  out  of  range.  I 
glanced  at  my  rifle  and  I  found  that  the 
elevation  of  the  sight  had  been  misplaced, 
being  ranged  for  fifty  yards.  I  think  it  is 
best  to  have  the  sight  of  a  high  power  gun 
with  a  very  flat  trajectory  sighted  for  100 
yards,  and  to  draw  a  fine  or  coarse  sight  on 
the  object  as  occasion  may  require.  We  ex- 
amined the  spot  where  the  bull  had  been 
seen  when  fired  at  and  discovered  a  sprinkling 
of  blood  along  his  tracks.  Tying  the  horses, 
159 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

we  started  to  follow  the  trail  on  foot.  The 
course  the  bull  took  favored  the  higher  eleva- 
tions more  than  the  depressions,  which  was  a 
bad  sign,  so  with  grave  misgivings  we  con- 
tinued the  pursuit.  The  increasing  signs  of 
blood  inspired  us  with  hope;  here  and  there 
he  occasionally  stood,  as  was  evident  from 
the  quantity  of  blood  and  the  character  of 
the  impression  his  feet  made  in  the  snow. 
In  other  respects  the  signs  were  disappoint- 
ing; the  tracks  showed  no  indication  of  weak- 
ness, and  frequently  led  us  across  high  fallen 
trees  and  along  steep  places,  where  I  fol- 
lowed with  difficulty.  The  blood,  although 
quite  plentiful,  was  a  light  red,  and  not  the 
dark  color  which  would  be  discharged  were 
some  vital  spot  injured.  Finally,  after  travel- 
ing about  six  miles,  the  flow  of  blood  began 
to  lessen.  At  length  we  reached  a  point 
where  he  entered  a  tract  of  thick  timber, 
evidently  at  a  walk.  We  concluded  that  it 
was  best  not  to  pursue  him  in  this  retreat, 
160 


CHAS.    HERPICK    SKl\\    \  RULL    ELK. 

THE  AUTHOR  AT  THE  RIGHT. 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

because  his  slow  pace  might  indicate  exhaus- 
tion and  a  disposition  to  lie  down.  The  only 
hope  I  had  of  securing  him  would  be  in  case 
of  his  lying  down  and  becoming  stiff  from 
his  wound  and  not  being  able  to  get  up.  We 
concluded  to  allow  plenty  of  time  for  this  to 
happen.  The  guide  made  a  circuit  around 
the  timber  and  could  discover  no  trace  of  his 
having  emerged  from  it.  We  then  went 
back  to  the  horses  and  rode  to  camp.  The 
succeeding  day  we  returned  to  the  spot, 
traced  the  steps  of  the  elk  to  a  place  where 
he  had  lain  down,  and  saw  a  slight  discolora- 
tion of  the  snow  where  his  brisket  had 
touched  it,  his  tracks  led  onward,  and  signs 
of  bleeding  had  ceased.  All  our  trouble  had 
been  in  vain  because  of  an  improperly  ar- 
ranged sight. 

By  this  time  I  had  been  about  ten  days  in 

camp  and  was  growing  quite  accustomed  to 

the  life.     Although  the  weather  was   quite 

cold,  at  times  going  to  eight  or  ten  below 

161 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

zero  at  night,  yet  it  often  grew  warm  enough 
during  the  day  to  thaw,  but  it  was  dry,  light 
atmosphere  and  always  bracing.  Every  night 
for  a  brief  interval  we  were  treated  to  a 
serenade  from  the  coyotes,  a  ridiculous,  wild 
and  unearthly  chant,  which  became  a  positive 
nuisance  when  the  dogs  undertook  an  accom- 
paniment right  at  our  ears.  Occasionally  a 
bull  elk,  feeding  during  the  full  of  the  moon, 
would  cause  the  cold  atmosphere  to  vibrate 
with  his  shrill  whistle  as  he  loped  past  the 
camp.  In  all  other  respects  we  were  entirely 
alone  for  the  twenty-two  days  I  stayed  in 
camp  except  one,  when  the  game  warden 
dropped  in  to  look  at  my  license,  and  after 
a  brief  stay  took  his  departure.  How  dif- 
ferent this  was  from  most  of  the  hunting  in 
the  East,  where  the  number  of  sportsmen 
has  become  so  great  as  to  render  the  pastime 
almost  as  dangerous  for  the  hunter  as  it  is 
for  game.  Particularly  is  this  the  case  when 
"green  sportsmen"  persist  in  shooting  at  any- 
162 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

thing  that  moves  without  first  finding  out 
what  it  is.  My  guide  expressed  his  surprise 
at  the  number  of  accidents  which  occur  every 
year  in  the  Adirondacks  through  gross  care- 
lessness. He  remarked  that  he  believed  it 
would  be  best  if  one  were  hunting  in  the 
Adirondacks  and  saw  anything  moving  in  the 
brush  to  shoot  without  waiting  to  find  out 
what  it  was,  because  the  chances  are  that  it 
would  be  a  man,  and  if  you  did  not  shoot 
him  he  would  shoot  you.  I  was  rather 
amused  at  this  piece  of  grim  humor,  which  is 
a  sample  of  what  he  generally  had  on  tap. 

The  sun  dawned  auspiciously  upon  what 
proved  to  be  my  luckiest  day  in  camp.  For 
some  days  I  had  hunted  diligently  without 
securing  the  heads  that  would  satisfy  me. 
We  had  not  journeyed  over  three  miles  from 
camp  before  we  saw,  at  quite  a  distance,  a 
large  bull  move  into  a  thickly  wooded  valley. 
We  turned  our  course  in  that  direction,  keep- 
ing out  of  view  as  much  as  possible,  riding 
163 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

along  a  hill  which  overlooked  the  valley  into 
which  the  bull  had  taken  refuge.  We  came 
to  an  open  and  slightly  undulating  country, 
which  was  covered  with  about  eighteen  inches 
of  snow,  and  gave  evidence  that  quite  a 
number  of  elk  had  recently  passed  that  way, 
and  about  500  yards  off  saw  a  herd  with  sev- 
eral good  heads.  The  country  was  quite  open, 
but  broken  up  with  thick  clumps  of  spruce 
trees  here  and  there.  To  get  nearer  the  herd 
it  was  necessary  to  cross  a  wide  open  space, 
but  by  a  timely  maneuver  of  the  guide 
we  traveled  under  cover  until  we  reached  a 
point  where  a  thick  clump  of  trees  standing 
out  in  the  open  space  obstructed  the  view 
between  us  and  the  elk.  We  then  rode  out 
in  the  open  toward  the  clump  of  trees 
which  concealed  us  from  view.  Having 
gained  this  point,  which  was  about  175  to 
200  yards  from  the  herd,  I  dismounted  and 
stepped  out  in  the  clearing.  The  cows  again 
provokingly  ran  between  me  and  the  largest 
164 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

bull,  which  I  had  marked  as  my  own.  For- 
tunately, the  cows  ran  ahead  and  I  got  a 
quartering  view  of  the  large  bull.  The 
bright  reflection  of  the  sun  on  the  snow  made 
it  somewhat  difficult  to  fully  distinguish  the 
body  of  the  animal  in  the  dense  moving  mass, 
but  I  succeeded  in  locating  it.  Drawing  a 
fine  sight  on  my  Mauser  I  fired.  The  entire 
herd  disappeared  over  the  crest  of  the  hill. 
The  guide,  who  by  this  time  had  mounted 
his  horse,  cried,  "You  have  got  a  bull."  I 
asked  him  if  it  was  the  ubig  one."  He  re- 
plied, "I  don't  know."  In  the  confused  and 
changing  mass  it  was  indeed  difficult  to  keep 
track  of  any  particular  one.  We  urged  the 
horses  to  their  utmost  speed;  the  antlers  of 
the  bull  continued  growing  larger  to  the  view- 
as  we  drew  near.  Finally,  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  satisfaction,  the  guide  slipped  off  his 
horse  and  congratulated  me  upon  the  kill. 
"The  largest  head  in  the  bunch."  It  was 
indeed  a  fine  bull,  with  a  spread  just  short 
165 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

of  four  feet.  There  were  twelve  points  on 
the  antlers,  six  tines  on  each  side.  The  bullet 
had  lodged  a  little  back  of  the  shoulder  and 
the  animal  had  dropped  without  a  struggle. 
In  the  space  of  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  the 
carcass  was  dressed;  the  mantle  had  been 
stripped  off,  and  we  were  ready  to  return  for 
a  couple  of  pack  horses  to  bring  in  the  antlers 
and  meat. 

We  had  hardly  mounted  the  horses  when 
we  saw  another  bull  with  a  fine  head  about 
250  yards  away.  I  slid  off  my  horse,  and 
getting  the  distance  from  the  guide,  I  drew 
a  coarse  sight  and  fired  as  the  animal  was 
going  over  a  hill.  We  hurried  over  to  the 
spot  where  the  bull  had  been  and  saw  faint 
splotches  of  blood  on  the  snow.  As  we 
descended  the  hill  the  guide  remarked  he 
hoped  we  would  not  have  as  long  a  chase 
after  this  one  as  we  did  after  the  bull  we 
hunted  so  long  a  few  days  previous.  I  re- 
plied that  I  was  certain  we  would  not.  "How 
166 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

do  you  know?"  he  asked.  For  answer  I 
pointed  to  a  lifeless  form  just  beyond  lying 
among  some  spruce  trees.  As  the  guide 
stepped  alongside  of  me,  where  he  could  get 
a  view,  he  expressed  his  surprise  at  the  luck 
I  had  had  in  getting  two  such  fine  heads  in 
so  short  an  interval.  It  was  barely  half  an 
hour  since  I  had  secured  my  first  trophy,  and 
now  I  had  a  second  one  which  we  both  re- 
garded as  better  than  the  first.  The  ball  had 
struck  back  of  the  shoulder  a  little  above  the 
middle  of  the  body.  The  spread  of  this  head 
was  a  trifle  larger  than  the  first  one  I  had 
shot;  the  antlers  were  more  solid,  especially 
at  the  base.  My  hard  hunting  had  been  re- 
warded. I  had  obtained  inside  of  half  an 
hour  two  heads  as  handsome  and  large  as 
any  that  it  had  ever  been  my  good  fortune 
to  secure.  I  felt  like  a  school  boy  about  to 
take  a  vacation,  for  I  had  hunted  faithfully 
for  about  eleven  days  and  I  promised  myself 
a  rest  when  I  had  won  out  with  the  bulls. 

167  Bancroft  Library 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

For  several  days  I  took  it  easy;  a  large 
part  of  the  time  I  sat  in  a  comfortable  chair 
in  camp  and  read  novels  and  played  cards. 
I  also  managed  to  work  up  quite  a  small 
medical  practice,  my  victims  being  Sheffield, 
Charles  Herdick  and  Marcus  Imo,  the  cock 
and  horse  wrangler.  The  remedies  which 
some  people  of  the  far  West  prescribe  for 
their  ailments  are  quite  original  and  simple. 
One  day  when  I  was  starting  out  on  horse- 
back to  hunt  in  company  with  Herdick,  I 
noticed  that  he  had  not  saddled  his  horse. 
I  asked  him  the  reason.  He  replied  that  he 
was  not  feeling  well  and  wanted  exercise. 
Anyone  familiar  with  hunting  in  Jackson's 
Hole  knows  how  often  one  has  to  leave  the 
horse  to  travel  on  foot  over  rough  country 
through  snow  and  up  slippery  ascents  for 
hundreds  of  feet. 

Herdick  evidently  thought  this  was  not 
enough  exercise  to  keep  him  in  condition. 
Another  time  Imo  had  contracted  a  severe 
168 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

cold  which  I  wanted  to  prescribe  for.  He 
replied  that  it  had  come  on  without  anything 
and  it  would  go  off  without  anything.  After 
some  persuasion  he  consented  to  take  a  good 
dose  of  quinine  and  a  hot  drink  before  retir- 
ing. The  next  morning  the  cold  had  about 
disappeared,  but  when  Imo  went  out  to 
round  up  the  horses  he  had  great  difficulty 
in  hearing  the  bell  on  account  of  the  quinine 
buzzing  in  his  ear,  which  confirmed  his  bad 
opinion  of  medicine. 

After  I  had  tired  of  loafing  I  hunted  with 
the  dogs,  tracking  cougars,  bobcats  and  lynx. 
Occasionally  I  would  take  a  shot  at  a  coyote 
to  pay  it  back  for  some  of  the  unearthly 
serenades  we  had  been  treated  to  at  night. 
One  day,  while  following  the  track  of  a  lynx, 
Herdick  came  across  a  No.  5  bear  trap.  He 
discovered  it  by  noticing  some  fresh  elk  meat 
near  it.  The  trap  was  carefully  concealed, 
and  had  he  been  an  inexperienced  hunter  or 
perhaps  walking  along  there  at  night  he 
169 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

might  have  made  discovery  by  stepping  in  it. 
It  is  against  the  law  to  bait  a  trap  with  elk 
meat,  and  it  should  be  forbidden  to  set  traps 
around  indiscriminately  where  sportsmen  are 
licensed  to  hunt;  the  permission  implying 
reasonable  safety,  which  is  not  the  case  when 
dangerous  traps  are  set  without  proper  safe- 
guards. We  sprung  the  trap  and  went  on. 
Some  men,  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
danger  arising  from  this  source,  always  carry 
a  monkey-wrench  when  hunting  or  trapping. 
A  steel  trap  which  could  hold  a  silver-tip 
would  inflict  a  terrible  injury  upon  anyone 
who  was  unfortunate  enough  to  become  en- 
trapped, even  if  assistance  were  promptly 
rendered,  and  assistance  being  remote,  might 
cause  a  painful,  lingering  death.  I  knew  of 
a  case  where  a  trapper  had  set  two  No.  5 
bear  traps,  and  upon  his  return  found  a  large 
silver-tip  in  one  of  them.  Venturing  rather 
close  to  the  bear  the  enraged  animal  made  a 
sudden  lunge  at  him,  which  the  man  evaded 
170 


GROS    VENTRE    RIVER. 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

by  stepping  back  hurriedly.  In  doing  so  he 
accidentally  fell  and  sprung  the  other  trap 
with  his  knee  and  was  caught  in  that  position. 
The  man  was  unable  to  get  to  his  rifle  to 
dispatch  the  bear,  which  was  making  efforts 
to  reach  him.  Being  in  uncomfortably  close 
quarters  to  the  bear,  and  apprehensive  of  his 
safety,  the  trapper  devised  a  clever  plan  to 
dispose  of  his  disagreeable  neighbor.  Fasten- 
ing his  knife  to  the  end  of  a  long  pole  he 
repeatedly  stabbed  the  bear  until  death  en- 
sued. His  companion,  going  to  examine  the 
traps,  at  last  found  him  almost  dead  with 
pain  and  released  him. 

The  end  of  my  outing  at  length  drew 
near,  and  it  became  necessary  to  make 
arrangements  to  break  camp.  I  had  become 
quite  attached  to  the  beautiful  spot  where  I 
had  spent  such  a  pleasant  time  and  had  so 
much  luck.  Although  I  had  not  bagged  all 
the  game  the  law  allowed  me,  yet  I  felt  that 
I  had  obtained  exceptionally  good  heads  and 
171 


INTER-OCEAN    HUNTING    TALES 

was  satisfied.  I  had  also  collected  a  con- 
siderable number  of  photographs,  of  which 
Sheffield  took  the  greatest  number;  in  fact, 
he  proved  quite  an  expert  in  this  line.  The 
horses  seemed  no  more  anxious  to  leave  than 
we  were,  and  occasionally  proved  refractory 
and  commenced  to  buck  until  something  was 
bound  over  their  eyes.  The  first  night  of  the 
journey  homeward  we  camped  on  the  banks 
of  the  Gros  Ventre.  We  put  up  no  tents,  but 
slept  out  in  the  open,  because,  as  I  said  to 
the  guide,  I  wanted  to  see  how  it  felt  to  rough 
it. 

During  the  day  we  had  descended  into 
a  country  where  the  elevation  was  consider- 
ably lower.  The  snow,  which  we  had  seen 
continuously  in  our  former  camp,  had  all 
disappeared  and  the  temperature  was  much 
warmer.  Early  the  next  day .  we  reached 
Jackson,  where  we  put  up  at  Nelson's 
Hotel  and  Were  very  hospitably  entertained. 
Although  remote  from  the  regular  line  of 
172 


ELK  HUNT  IN  WYOMING 

travel  and  the  railroad,  the  people  in  this 
locality  live  remarkably  well  and  in  comfort, 
and  on  reaching  this  point  I  felt  I  was  in 
touch  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  Although 
it  is  100  miles  from  the  railroad,  yet  it  is 
connected  with  St.  Anthony  by  telephone.  A 
musical  entertainment  was  arranged  here  for 
our  benefit  by  the  hospitable  inhabitants  of 
the  place,  which  proved  very  enjoyable. 


173 


